Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet
by Orchideater
Summary: AU, GkxVg -COMPLETED!- Vegeta Oujisama thought buying an exotic pet would be an interesting diversion. But this strange shop in Chinatown is not known for selling normal pets, and the beast he takes home may be more than he bargained for...
1. Contract for an Exotic

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg 

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

A/N Okay, now this is a major AU– it's supposed to take place in "the real world–" and this is technically a crossover (WAIT DON'T LEAVE! Let me explain!) of Pet Shop of Horrors and DBZ. Basically it's a Dragonball fic told like a Pet Shop story. There's only two recurring characters in Pet Shop and they'll only appear at the beginning and the end; it's overwhelmingly Goku and Vegeta, trust me. Prior knowledge of Pet Shop of Horrors is NOT necessary. It's very different, give it a try! Please R+R

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Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

Chapter 1: Contract for an Exotic

Plumes of smoke rose from the damp streets of Chinatown, the night illuminated by an eclectic multitude of lights, by street lamps and headlights and neon signs and the occasional softer glow of a decorative lantern. The pavement shimmered from recent warm rains, heralding the return to warmer weather and greener days. Many people bustled among the maze of streets that night, attending to their usual evening business, but the lights cast strange shadows upon the stern features of one man in particular.

Vegeta Oujisama walked alone, his long overcoat billowing and designer dress shoes clacking on the ground as he strode purposefully toward his destination. Turning off the main thoroughfare onto a side road, he spotted the address. Ahead of him lay a small and unobtrusive storefront, with a simple hanging wooden sign that only read "Count D's." He was just in time to witness a customer leaving, a man with a satisfied expression who carried a clear plastic bag full of exquisite, tiny tropical fish, the likes of which Vegeta had never seen before. They danced within the bag, glowing like radiant, precious gems.

So they do sell exotics, he thought. Promising...

The store's proprietor greeted Vegeta as soon as he stepped inside. "Ah, welcome, sir! I am Count D, manager of this store while my grandfather is abroad on business. You are just in time, I was beginning to shut down for the night. How may I be of service?"

Vegeta eyed him coldly. The man was tall, fair, and slender, his face and hands effeminate and delicate. A curtain of chin-length silky black hair framed his face and shaded his mismatched eyes, and he wore an embroidered and brocaded traditional Chinese cheongsam. Everything about him spoke of high breeding and expensive tastes, as reflected by the elaborate waiting room they stood in. Vegeta determined that the only way a pet shop owner could maintain such luxuries was the trafficking of black market, illegal animals. 

"Sir?"

"Yes, well," Vegeta began. "I don't really know what the hell I'm doing here. Lately I've had the crazy notion of buying an animal."

"Wonderful sir, then you are in the right place. We supply creatures from all over the world– the rarest of the rare is obtainable, for the right customer." The count appraised Vegeta in turn. He had heard much about this man, as a merciless CEO and as a highly arrogant and unfeeling personage among the echelons of the wealthy. His family had such power and influence that they could almost be considered royalty. 

"You are Vegeta Oujisama, are you not? Businessman and heir to the Oujisama family fortune... and recently estranged from your lovely wife Buruma?"

Vegeta's eyes widened in shock at the shopkeeper's audacity, his infamous temper flaring. "Wha– and how the hell is that any of your business?!"

The manager gave a small bow but did not back down. He chuckled inwardly at how this was obviously a sore spot to the man. "Forgive me sir, I meant no offense. But many of my clients are from elite circles, and they are quite familiar with you and your social life. You are perhaps looking for a pet to occupy your thoughts, to distract you from your wife's absence?"

Vegeta bristled and fumed, enraged by the strange man's uncanny perception. "Hrrr... you're too forward for your own good. But I'll admit, you're partly right. And I don't want a damn 'pet,' I want an animal to keep. Something unusual."

"And what other qualities do you wish in this creature?"

Vegeta stared at the walls thoughtfully and began to pace the floor. "Something... wild...and beautiful. Something dangerous and powerful and predatory like a panther or a tiger, something forceful and masculine, an animal to complement a man like myself. But it should still be very well-trained...will listen to me, you know?"

D's eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Something intelligent... that will take instructions?"

"Yes... In a manner of speaking," Vegeta replied in a guarded manner. He felt as though the man was reading him, peering into his innermost spirit.

The manager's face darkened with satisfaction, his fingers lacing together in front of his face to hide the broadening, secretive smile.

"I believe I have the perfect companion animal for you."

The count turned briskly, then led Vegeta through a side door and down a dimly lit hallway lined with other closed doors, all carved and meticulously decorated. He walked with leisurely, measured steps, giving Vegeta time to ponder his surroundings. This place was like no pet shop he'd ever seen. The air was thick and sweet– no offending odors at all– and the raucous noise of animals was strangely lacking. He began to wonder if someone was playing a bad joke on him. But then, no one else knew he was there. He had recently overheard about this place from another wealthy business associate who fancied exotic pets– had pretended not to hear him discussing his latest purchase with a friend.

The count suddenly stopped in front of a narrow door, revealed to be a small linen closet, and pulled out a black silk scarf.

"Here, sir, you must wear this."

"What? What the hell for?"

"As a potential buyer for this creature, you must cover your neck when you see him. If you decide to take him home, I will explain the need for this precaution more thoroughly."

"Absolutely not! I'll look like a damn fairy with that on."

The count only grinned and moved to tie the scarf around his neck.

"It is necessary for viewing of the animal. You can tuck the ends inside your shirt, if that will make you feel more comfortable."

Vegeta grabbed the scarf away from him. Hrrn... Fucking fine! He's the only person here and I guess there's no harm in looking like a fairy in front of one, Vegeta thought, his hate for the count growing exponentially. Who does this guy think he is? How pretentious, calling himself a count– he's Chinese! They don't even have the title of count there. And trying to sound mysterious with that "D," as though he's too cool to give his real name, what a phony! Mocking me with that smile and those affected, impeccable manners; probably gets a kick out of screwing with Westerners. I ought to walk out of here right now, I–

"Here we are." 

Vegeta barely realized they'd resumed walking. The count stopped them in front of a thick mahogany door at the very end of the hallway, opened it a crack and looked back at him coyly.

"Please wait here a moment while I prepare the creature." And with that D slipped into the room leaving Vegeta standing outside, seething and impatient again as his imagination and rage ran away with him, imagining that beyond that door were several dozen rough-looking guys with guns and clubs waiting to jump him.

After several minutes, the door opened wide and Count D, standing to the side, greeted him with a welcoming smile, motioning graciously for him to enter. The once dark room was dimly lit with orange-shaded lamps, and by this glowing light Vegeta took in his first glimpse of the waiting creature. Vegeta's jaw dropped, his scowl transforming into a look of shock and disbelief.

Against the opposite wall, lounging casually upon a small, cushioned dais, was the creature– or more appropriately, person.

Upon the dais sat a huge being that could have almost passed for human. Broad-shouldered and wide-chested, powerful muscles graced his form, and despite his size every small movement spoke of grace and control. A spiky mane of shining black hair fell over his shoulders and extended halfway down his back, shading piercing golden eyes that bored holes into his visitor. He wore only a pair of boots and loose yellow pants in the style of traditional Chinese fighting gear. A short reddish pelt covered his arms and back, leaving the face, neck, hands, pectorals, and abdominals bare, revealing the smooth fair skin underneath. Most remarkable, perhaps, was the long, reddish tail that snaked slowly through the air behind him. A smirk of supreme confidence never left his features; however, he studied Vegeta with great interest.

Vegeta gawked and choked in shock, unable to find words to make sense of the scene before him. His natural cynicism and indignation quickly resurfaced though, in a more muted way. 

"What– I– What the hell is this? This is a... man– isn't it? Some sort of trick... What is he supposed to be?"

Enjoying Vegeta's discomfort, Count D walked leisurely over to stand beside the animal, and offered it his hand. The beast nuzzled his palm in a gesture of greeting.

"This," he said plainly, "is a Saiyajin. His name is Kakarot. Until recently he lived in the jungle, in the cloud forests of South America. There is only a handful of his kind left in the world, and of this particular breed, he is the very last. They are majestic, powerful creatures with savage instincts, yet are highly intelligent, patient, and resourceful. You may come closer to inspect him, sir, he will not harm you."

Vegeta suddenly realized that he'd been keeping his distance and subsequently strode up to within ten feet of the beast. Scowling, he shook off his initial discomfort from the saiyajin's penetrating stare.

"This is crazy, I've never heard of _anything _like him, no one has! There's never even been any monster sightings by backwoods inbreds or old legends of something like him, I–"

Vegeta's brow furrowed as he remembered the wonders Hollywood could do with makeup and latex. "How do I know that isn't some elaborate costume– and that this isn't some prank for an asinine TV show– putting one over on the rich twit?!" he shot at the manager, wonder giving way to fury in record time. 

"I assure you, sir, there is no trick," he said, feeling slightly insulted. "My shop is the most respected in Chinatown, as is my reputation. Come and examine him up close, please, to allay your concerns. Here."

Vegeta was surprised to see the saiyajin calmly extend an arm for inspection. He approached warily, and realized as he stood before him just how large the creature really was. The sensation was similar to observing tigers on television, and then appreciating their true size at a chance to see them up close. Vegeta peered closely at his smirking face and yellow eyes, inspected his arm and hand where bare skin met fur, then pinched up a fold of furred skin on his forearm and tugged hard, reminiscent of a child tugging on a department store Santa's beard. The saiyajin gave no indication of pain except for a slight narrowing of his eyes.

Vegeta straightened slowly, overwhelmed. "Shit. He... he does seem real. That's– that's un-fucking-believable. But–"

Vegeta froze as he suddenly realized the saiyajin's tail was coiled around his neck. The creature drew him closer, up to his face, until their noses were millimeters apart. Then he began delicately sniffing the whole of his face, hair, neck and shoulders. Vegeta could feel the moist heat of his breath, smell the exotic musk of his pelt and skin. He quickly came to his senses, however, breaking out of his wide-eyed stupor and jerking away from Kakarot in a huff. The saiyajin sat back, his eyes and smile much more gentle and welcoming now. He finally broke his stare to throw a look at the count, grabbing his hand briefly in the process. The shopkeeper tittered in amusement.

"You inspected him, so that was his turn to inspect you, it's only fair! You are quite fortunate sir; the saiyajin seems quite taken with you. I would not be able to sell him to you otherwise."

Vegeta puffed with his usual arrogance. "Of course he likes me. An animal like this respects power. But just how can you tell what he thinks of me?"

"A simple matter sir. The saiyajin himself told me as much."

"Wha? You– you're saying he can speak?"

"Not vocally as you or I do sir, but through a kind of mind-voice. All you need do is take his hand, and you will be able to converse with him. Please, try it."

Kakarot offered his hand, which Vegeta gingerly accepted. He felt a strange extension of his being, what could almost be described as a road suddenly materializing out from his mind to connect with another, and a smooth tenor voice sounded in his head.

:: A good evening to you, Master Vegeta. Will I be traveling home with you tonight? :: he chuckled mentally.

Vegeta jumped back in shock. "Holy shit! He... he _can _talk! Holy fuck, that's amazing. So, he really is more like a person than an animal." That mental speech is unnerving, he thought to himself.

"I told you, the saiyajin are very intelligent, a 'people' of their own. Keep him happy and he will do whatever you wish; he will want to please you. I'm sure you will find many uses for him, besides companionship and entertainment. This particular saiyajin has the strength of twenty strong men– and an appetite to match," he sighed, hanging his head in mock despair. The saiyajin grinned hugely at his comment. But what Vegeta noticed were the lengthy, sharp canines.

"Ah," Count D continued, "our wild one has one last trick you should see. Kakarot, will you please show him your second state?"

Kakarot, who had resumed staring at Vegeta, turned back to the count with an annoyed glare.

"Please, my good man, just a brief demonstration. You want to impress the interested party with your talents, don't you?" he pleaded sweetly.

The saiyajin frowned, but complied. Tossing his head, a cool yellow glow sparked over his body, and suddenly Vegeta found a handsome young man in the saiyajin's place. He had shrunk somewhat, the hair shortened and tamed, and the red pelt had vanished leaving only flawless pale skin. But perhaps the most dramatic change was in the eyes, which now shone a soft black. His appearance was so innocent, so different from the feral persona of the saiyajin before.

Vegeta had to drive a fingernail into his cheekbone to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "My god, that's amazing! Just like... magic! Shit, this all can't be for real, I must be on something," he blustered, though he had decided to believe the moment he touched the creature. "He looks completely human, he could pass for one in any crowd."

"Well, not quite completely," the count corrected, pointing out the now light brown tail that still twitched behind him.

"Oh, yes... well, all you'd have to do is hide that and he'd be golden, you know?"

"Yes, very well. Now you see why no one has ever heard of the saiyajin. Most of them look so human they can easily blend into human society. Now only Kakarot retains the more bestial form of the race, and he can shed it whenever he pleases in favor of the human form. But, as you can see, he greatly prefers the more animalistic look." He motioned toward Kakarot, and Vegeta noticed that he had already gone back to his original form. 

"He feels most comfortable in this body, so you should not ask him to assume the human form often."

Count D fell silent for a moment and walked over to stand beside the creature, who nuzzled his hand. "So Mr. Oujisama... do you wish to acquire him?" The saiyajin finally stood, and Vegeta was chagrined to find he barely came to the animal's shoulder. "Beautiful, is he not? That long, thick tail, his strong build, that lovely soft fur... One cannot set a price on such beauty and rarity... though I am sure we could work something out..."

"Y... yes, of course." There was no other possible answer. The creature had to be his; he was marvelous, like the fanciful denizens of Medieval bestiaries. All Vegeta's previous plans fell by the wayside, taking a backseat to simply owning this miraculous, one-of-a-kind animal.

"Wonderful! Then let us retire to my office to peruse the details of the agreement," the shopkeeper crooned, bowing and striding to the door, holding it open. Vegeta followed numbly. 

Smoldering golden eyes followed his every retreating step.

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"Four million dollars!?! You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

The store manager was unflinching. "I will accept no less. I think this price is more than fair for such a unique and amazing beast. You will never find such a beautiful, intelligent, unusual animal ever again. He deserves no less. The saiyajin may become offended if he finds out you tried to bargain for him. But, if you decide he is truly not to your liking, we have another buyer also considering purchase," he lied expertly.

Vegeta knew this couldn't be true, knew it was the oldest salesman's trick in the book, but still it was the spark that ignited his competitive nature like flash paper. Unlikely as it may be, there was still a small chance that someone else might be interested in the saiyajin. Vegeta would never forgive himself if he let it slip through his fingers.

"All right, all right, you greedy bastard. I spend that much at auction in a month anyway." Vegeta decided he would consider this purchase the same as one of the expensive art pieces he relished buying at auction regularly.

"Very good. Now let me detail the proper care of the saiyajin, and the rules of the contract. The saiyajin is a nocturnal animal, meaning he is active during the twilight and nighttime hours. Allow him his sleep and do not bother him in the morning. They have an extremely long lifespan, so attention to his needs will be a lifelong commitment and will require much of your time. 

"He is omnivorous, and will require a large amount of food– he'll let you know when he is hungry and when he is satisfied. Diet should be two parts meat and fish to one part everything else. He will need a large living space with greenery and natural elements, and once a week you will need to take him out to an isolated wood so he may run and get the exercise he requires to be healthy." The count looked up. "Can you provide these requirements for him?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Christ knows our budget can allow for a bit more food expenses, and I have a huge greenhouse right on the grounds that he can stay in. It used to be Buruma's pet project and hideaway. Lots of tropical trees and plants, some he might even be familiar with already. A few butterflies and birds too. You said he came from the rain forests?" 

"Yes sir, South America. Though I am told," he said with the blush and giggle of a preteen girl with a great secret, "that his people are originally... not of this world!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes and chose to ignore that last comment. He had begun to grow quite relaxed, his senses hazed over by the thick, permeating scent of sweet-burning incense.

"Excellent! This sounds like an ideal arrangement. It seems as though you were meant to have him." Again, that secret smile. "Allow me to finish the last few terms of the contract. The Saiyajin must not be shown to anyone but you outside of his human form, for his own privacy. Lastly and perhaps most importantly, you must always keep all skin covered in the presence of the saiyajin, all but your face and hands."

Vegeta suddenly remembered the borrowed scarf around his neck and pulled it off. "Oh. What in the world for?"

"The saiyajin may... bite. And you may keep that, you'll need it for taking him home."

"Not even my neck can show, huh?"

"Especially the neck."

"Damn, what a pain in the ass. I hate turtlenecks. But if he's going to try and chew on me like a hambone otherwise, I guess I can abide by that rule."

"Very wise of you sir." The shopkeeper produced a parchment from his desk and handed him an ebony-encased pen. "Now, if you will just close our deal by signing here on the line, the saiyajin will be yours."

Vegeta stared blearily at the document for a moment, pen in hand, then remembered the need for discretion. "Wait," he said, "I can't have this on the books. I need to buy something else too, as a cover. Throw in a few birds for the greenhouse, about five or so."

"Very well sir. What kinds would you like?"

"Doesn't matter. Something flashy, easy to take care of. Not too big. He's not going to eat the birds is he?"

"If you keep him fed, he will not touch them. In fact, I daresay he would consider them 'his' and take them under his protection."

"Okay then. And you'd better not breathe a word of this to anyone, if you know what's good for you. I can have this store shut down and your ass shipped back to China with a word."

"I assure you sir, I offer my clients complete confidentiality, if they so wish," he ground out. "This transaction will appear both in my records and on your bill as 'tropical birds, and related items and services.'" 

The owner continued, giving directions on how to pull his car around to the back of the store through the twisting back alleys to discreetly pick up the creature, while Vegeta struggled to listen to him and read over the contract through the hazy, heavy cloud of incense in his mind. He settled for skimming over the deed. I do willingly accept... the interested party... taking the saiyajin Kakarot into my home... agree to keep the aforementioned healthy and content... Whatever.

Vegeta left his chicken scratch in the space provided, then quickly filled out a check and handed them both over. An odd sensation of finality swept over him as he signed his name, that in that defining moment, he had changed his life forever.

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	2. Acclimation

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg 

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

A/N A huge thank you to all who read and reviewed, I'm so glad you like it so far! I was afraid that people would see "crossover" and immediately run the other way. I got such lovely reviews, I thought I should hurry up and get chapter 2 polished and ready to go. So here it is!

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Chapter 2: Acclimation

Vegeta slouched upon a boulder in the enormous greenhouse, face in his hands, as he morosely watched the saiyajin familiarize himself with every inch of his new surroundings. __

_What _the hell was I thinking? he despaired silently. I'll have to keep the groundskeeper out of here, so I suppose now upkeep of this place is my problem, and Father will burst a blood vessel if he finds out I spent four million on "birds." Hggh... Well, Vegeta, you've got your very own Wookie– now what are you going to do with him?

The trip back to the estate had been quite an experience. Kakarot had been cramped into the very narrow backseat along with a cage of terrified, shrieking finches, and unfortunately the shopkeeper had neglected to mention that he'd never been in a car before. Vegeta had tried to impress the creature on the expressway (and perhaps intimidate him a bit, too) by showing off the fast moves and powerful engine of his newest Lamborghini. However, the only result was Kakarot turning green and white and very nearly decorating the backseat of a $300,000 car with saiyan technicolor yawn. 

Fortunately he recovered from his car sickness quickly and was thrilled with the place Vegeta declared to be his new home. As they entered the greenhouse, the saiyajin managed to grab his wrist before he could pull away.

:: Friend Vegeta, this is amazing! A little jungle inside a house, a jungle in the city– how beautiful, how perfect! ::

Vegeta gasped and jerked his hand out of his grip; the mental speech unnerved him to no end. "Hey, now! Look, how about you do that only when I offer you my hand, or when you have something really important to tell me."

The saiyan looked at him wistfully, but finally nodded with a small smile and strolled off to tour the area. Vegeta sat on his rock and observed the creature for a time before drifting off, constructing strategies on how to take care of him and hide his presence from his father and the rest of the staff.

Preoccupied with his own concerns, Vegeta lost track of the creature until he landed with a solid thud directly in front of him, making him jump nearly a foot in the air. Having memorized every nook and cranny of his new domain, the saiyajin turned his full attention back to his companion. Kakarot landed only for a moment, grinned at his owner's surprise and then leapt over Vegeta to land again at his back. Vegeta spun in his seat to keep an eye on what he was doing but the saiyajin gripped his shoulders firmly and turned him back.

"Hey! Hold it, what do you think you're–"

Vegeta stopped as he felt long fingers thread through his hair. Slowly, almost ritualistically, the creature continued to comb his hair with his fingers, separating tangled strands and smoothing rumpled areas. Unsure what to think, Vegeta tilted his head just slightly enough to be able to look into his face. Kakarot only smiled genially, almost proudly at him.

Well, I suppose he's not hurting anything, Vegeta surmised, with still some unease as to the creature's intentions. Why in the world would he want to play with my hair? 

Then it struck him and he almost laughed at the realization. Grooming. He thinks he's grooming me! He seems to be part monkey, and monkeys pick at each other's fur for cleanliness and as a social behavior.

Satisfied with this answer, Vegeta closed his eyes, sat back against the saiyajin's knees and allowed himself to enjoy the unexpected hair treatment and scalp massage. I suppose I should be offended that he thinks of me as a fellow monkey, he thought, amused. Ah well, I'll let it pass for now; his behavior is interesting. This actually feels nice. 

Vegeta sighed, and let his mind wander as he pondered the mystery of the saiyajin. 

Sometimes I think Man's biggest mistake was coming down from the trees, he mused. Are we even evolving anymore? Does humanity still maintain "survival of the fittest?" Everything we do seems to go against the natural order. We work ourselves to death, we can't seem to live anywhere without destroying the world around us– we just have to make everything so damn difficult ... 

This guy lived in the jungle. I wonder if he was captured, or left– and why? Wonder if he misses it? Maybe he got sick of living like an animal, heh. Hollywood and the tree huggers like to depict the jungle as this beautiful pristine paradise full of animals and flowers, but early explorers called the rainforests 'the green hell' for a reason. They're infested with insects by the billions, the oppressive heat and humidity never ends, there's scores of diseases and those parasites that swim up your urethra, roundworms and tapeworms waiting to infest your gut and your blood, those awful guinea worms that chew their way _out _of your skin... 

The dream of the jungle is just a remnant of man's primitive psyche. A large part of us still wishes we had tails, still wishes we were monkeys, still wishes we could go back to the jungle and a simpler life, no matter how impossible the dream. And yet this animal– well, animal-man– made his home in the jungle and seemed to thrive. You only have to look at him to see he's in peak condition, flawless health; he has to be a matchless specimen, though I don't have others to compare him with. He must have lived well. 

Hhhhmm... Wouldn't it be nice to live that way, if just for a while... master of your own little world... to have only the simple concerns of food and territory and mate... no hectic city or bloodsucking business world, no demanding, critical father or disloyal whore of a wife... no media, no boardroom, no social elite... just... basic... needs... to meet...

The subtle stimulation of the grooming and the deft, light brushes of the saiyajin's fingers across his scalp had almost lulled Vegeta to sleep. So off-guard and lost in reverie, it took him nearly a minute to realize Kakarot had stopped. He cracked his eyes open only to find his groomer staring wide-eyed up into his face in wonder. Kakarot had swung around unnoticed to crouch at Vegeta's feet. Upon seeing Vegeta's look of surprise and slight embarrassment at being caught unawares, he grinned and let out a breathy, almost soundless laugh.

"So you can't talk but you can laugh, eh?" Heh! That's what I get for waxing philosophical like some dreamy college hippy, Vegeta thought, chuckling at himself. Did I really just almost doze off in front of him? It's insane, but I have to admit, I can't remember the last time I felt so relaxed...

The saiyajin, still grinning, reached up and ran his pinched fingers lightly up one last strand, in an almost reverential fashion. Then he abruptly settled himself into a cross-legged position before Vegeta and looked over his shoulder expectantly.

"Uh..."

The creature, amused by his hesitance, took Vegeta's hand and placed it on his hair.

"Oh, I get it, you want me to do yours now... Er... well... I suppose. But just for a minute; I doubt I'd be very good at this sort of thing anyway, I'm not a monkey you know." And if you've got any ticks or lice don't expect me to pick them off and eat them either! Vegeta fumed, his brow furrowing in disgust at the thought. To his relief, the saiyajin was insect- and odor-free– actually almost pleasant-smelling, like a forest after the rain . 

Vegeta pulled awkwardly at a few strands of Kakarot's thick hair, feeling too out-of-place to do more than a superficial job. He paused as he noticed a rumbling noise. What is that, the humidifier kicking on? It sounds funny, he wondered. Vegeta slowly realized that the soft rumbling was, in fact, coming from the person below him. He stopped combing his hair completely to listen in wonder.

"Is that you doing that?" he asked the saiyajin, who turned and grinned at him. Vegeta held his head down to listen, his ear next to the creature's warm bare chest.

"Hh, amazing! Almost like a cat's purr."

What motivated him next, Vegeta had no clue, but Kakarot suddenly threw his arms around his smaller companion and embraced him in a crushing bear hug.

Vegeta froze in shock, then began to squirm. "Uh, hey... aren't you the friendly sort." He must be a "pack type" animal and was lonely being the last of his kind in the forest, and then with only that freaky store owner for company– that must be it, Vegeta reasoned. "All right, come on, let go now," he insisted, extricating himself from the saiyajin's burly arms.

"Look, that guy said you eat a lot so you're probably hungry right? How about I go get you a meal." The creature nodded vigorously. 

Fifteen minutes later Vegeta came back with a bundled tablecloth full of a large variety of foods and leftovers from the mansion's kitchens. The saiyajin sniffed over everything he had brought, then began to devour the spread as though ravenous thieves lurked behind every bush, waiting to snatch what they could. 

Ugh, so much for graceful and restrained, Vegeta thought with a curl of his lip. Well, you look like a wild man, so I suppose it's only logical that you eat like one too.

Vegeta saw this as his chance to exit. Christ, it's after 3:00 a.m., he thought. "Well, you enjoy your food now, I'm going on to bed. See you tomorrow, then," he declared, giving him a stiff half-wave. Kakarot's head snapped up and he stopped fressing altogether to stare. Vegeta felt that piercing yellow gaze on him once again and felt obliged to dismiss him a second time. 

"Have a good night."

The saiyajin's searching eyes followed him to the exit and remained fixed on the door long after he had gone.

Exhausted, Vegeta crawled into his oversized bed, mentally berating himself for making such a reckless and impulsive purchase. Taking care of this "missing link" was going to be a huge responsibility and a strain on his already overtaxed schedule. 

But no matter how many times he reviewed all the potential problems in his head, Vegeta couldn't make himself sorry for his actions. If given another chance to leave or take the saiyajin, he knew he'd do exactly the same thing.

Vegeta drifted off at last, and later would barely remember the wet dream that consumed him that night, of making love in a thick fog, being pulled and sucked to orgasm again and again by a faceless, bodiless lover who was not his wife.

****

A/N

Thanks for reading, please R + R! The next three chapters will be a bit more humorous, as the boys experience a few misunderstandings as they get to know each other. Then the rest of the fic will return to a more serious tone, in general. I think the perfect car for Vegeta is the Lamborghini: super-fast and -powerful, obscenely expensive, dripping with machismo– it fits, don't you think? Now, Goku's a Nature Boy, so I would put him in some big, snazzy all-terrain vehicle like a Range Rover or a Hummer (no pun intended!)


	3. The Mistake

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg 

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

A/N These two chapters are pretty short so I decided to post them together. Just a couple of humorous incidents between Kakarot and Vegeta as they get further acquainted.

****

Chapter 3: The Mistake

As days and weeks passed, Vegeta found his thoughts and time increasingly occupied with the saiyajin. They began to establish a comfortable routine. When he had finished his social obligations and his duties with the company and household, Vegeta would bring Kakarot his dinner after dark, when the saiyajin was awake, and spend about an hour or so with the creature, watching him as he inhaled his meal. Vegeta despised wearing the turtlenecks required for their visits, but he was willing to deal with it for an hour a day. 

Kakarot would always leap down from the trees and bound over to greet him when he entered, full of toothy grins and welcomes, and he would embrace and nuzzle the surly businessman like a loving dog or cat. After that came the mandatory grooming session. Vegeta put up with his attentions because he found the creature fascinating, and wanted to alter his natural habits and behavior as little as possible.

Often they would merely sit in comfortable silence. Kakarot attempted to entertain him by pointing out the actions of the butterflies and the fish in the pond, and would purr strange, low humming melodies. Sometimes the saiyajin would try to impress him with his agility in the trees, and by demonstrating how he could coax the birds to come and sit on his hand (which Vegeta had to admit, was impressive– he had expected the birds to be terrified of such a large and potentially dangerous creature). 

Kakarot would still try for his wrist, wishing that he could communicate more directly with him, but Vegeta staunchly refused any of the saiyajin's mind-touching. He still found it highly disturbing to hear the voice of another person inside his head; it made him feel schizophrenic, and exposed.

Almost a week after the saiyajin's arrival, however, Vegeta inadvertently made a serious breach of etiquette. Vegeta strode into the greenhouse after a long day, still full of corporate bustle and vigor. Kakarot leapt down to greet him as usual, and was surprised that he had not brought dinner, but instead carried a small leather bag. He peered curiously at it and looked at Vegeta, his eyes full of questions. 

The offending item happened to be a doctor's bag. Vegeta hadn't been able to stop worrying about the possibility of hellish tropical diseases spreading from the creature, even if he appeared clean, and had decided to take some preventive action. 

"Dinner later, Kakarot. I want to vaccinate you first. Nothing personal, but who knows what you've brought back from those backwater jungles. You're bound to have worms too, and you probably don't even know it. God I hate worms!"

Kakarot shook his head to tell Vegeta that he was devoid of ghastly flesh-eating diseases and uninvited creepy crawlies, but Vegeta wasn't listening. While he prepared the injection, Kakarot sniffed distastefully at the tiny ampoules of medicine and at the hypodermic, frowning deeply. He gingerly attempted to touch the tip of the needle.

"Hey, don't!" Vegeta admonished, jerking the needle away from him. "You'll contaminate it, it's supposed to be sterile. Now don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I got this stuff from our veterinarian; had him show me how to give shots. I told him it was for our thoroughbred racehorses, heh. See, this one bottle is a new kind of general de-worming agent and the second is an antibiotic."

Vegeta swabbed a spot on his arm with alcohol, sucked up both medications with the hypo and tapped the side like a pro, then pressed the plunger until a few drops were expelled from the needle. Kakarot crinkled his nose and made faces at the smell, watching him uneasily.

"Okay, ready to go. Hold still, this will just take a second..." And with one quick motion he thrust the needle fully into the unsuspecting saiyan's upper arm. Vegeta had assumed it would be so easy, just a simple task over within five minutes. However...

"GYAAAHH!!!"

Kakarot jolted away in a panic, knocking Vegeta over in his haste and scattering medical accouterments everywhere. He flew up into the nearest tall tree and perched at the top, hissing and snarling and spitting.

Vegeta picked himself up off the ground. "Jesus! Darn it, I didn't even get a chance to inject the vaccine." He took one look at the indignant, puffed up Saiyajin in the tree and burst out laughing.

"Why you great giant baby, it's only a little needle! Some tough guy you are, ah ha hah!" he exclaimed. Kakarot let out a furious rattling growl and rained down bark, branches, leaves, hard fruit, and finally the hypodermic, pelting Vegeta with missiles until he ran out of the greenhouse, still snickering madly.

****


	4. Embarrassments and Wonders

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg 

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

A/N These two chapters are pretty short so I decided to post them together. Just a couple of humorous incidents between Kakarot and Vegeta as they get further acquainted.

****

Chapter 4: Embarrassments and Wonders

Kakarot sulked for three days after the incident, retreating to his tree and ignoring Vegeta when he would bring his meal. Vegeta attempted to apologize several times, telling him that the shot was for his own good, but he didn't figure they were very effective apologies when he kept breaking up into laughter, and was actually not very sorry at all. Vegeta finally coaxed the saiyajin out of the tree and out of his huff with the promise of some very special, very tasty new dishes from his head chef, and offered him a grooming afterwards. They were back on good terms after that.

During Kakarot's sulk, however, Vegeta discovered a quite useful spot on one of the outside walls of the greenhouse where he could sit and spy on the creature. If he climbed up on the humidifying unit and sprinkler system, there was a space between their machinery and the temperature control unit where he could see the whole of the inside without being detected by anyone inside the greenhouse or outside on the grounds. During those three days he climbed there to keep tabs on the saiyajin and see if he had caused any damage, and to check on his well-being. 

Despite their reconciliation, Vegeta found himself spying even more frequently than before, as he was terribly curious about what the saiyajin did when alone. Kakarot's favorite pastime was watching Vegeta; Vegeta never stopped to think that he was now reciprocating. 

He began blowing off work and engagements to watch the creature tend to his domain, watch him play with the birds, butterflies, and fish– even to watch him sleep. Sleepless nights became more and more frequent as he stayed up to observe the saiyajin after their companionable time together, hoping to learn more about him. Left with relatively few instructions about the creature's needs, Vegeta often felt as though he was stumbling in the dark when it came to his proper care. Had he set the temperature and humidity right? Did Kakarot receive enough exercise, enough food? What kind of personal habits did he maintain? 

In particular, the base matter of where the creature made his privy had Vegeta stumped. Vegeta was a practical man, and had at first fretted over the cleanliness of the greenhouse when he wasn't worrying over what monstrous tropical diseases the saiyajin might be carrying. He seethed with anger and embarrassment at the thought of having to clean up after the saiyajin himself– how degrading! However, no matter how hard he looked, the greenhouse still appeared as clean as before a large animal took up residence there. So where in the world did he "go?" 

Vegeta received his answer in the strangest of ways one night after their daily visit. During the climb up to his hiding spot Vegeta lost sight of the creature, then relocated him after a while in a deeply shaded area, after he had moved back a few feet so Vegeta could just see his outline in the shadows. He stood tall, extended a hand... and incinerated his target to ashes with an intense light blast from his palm.

"Whaaa?!" Vegeta was so shocked he jumped back and fell from his perch, tumbling down the humidifier unit with a loud clattering and banging all the way to the ground. No bruises could stop him though, and he stormed into the greenhouse. Kakarot of course noticed him instantly the moment he yelped, and stood and waited for him uncomfortably.

Vegeta marched up to him, his face contorting in fury and disbelief. "You– that– what the _hell_– What _was _that you just did, I demand you show me this instant!" 

Kakarot gaped at him helplessly, until Vegeta begrudgingly thrust his hand toward him so they could communicate better. The saiyajin grasped it at once.

:: Why were you watching me go to the bathroom?! :: He questioned, his face pink with embarrassment.

Vegeta stopped altogether, his eyes widening in shock and his face flushing crimson as he remembered that the saiyajin wasn't supposed to know he'd been spying. 

"Uh... I..." The temper returned as quickly as it had left. "I wasn't _watching _you go to the bathroom, I just wanted to see– I mean– I just want it clean in here, dammit!"

:: Honestly! You think I can't take care of that myself? ::

"Well how was I supposed to know!? N-now stop avoiding the question and tell me what that light was!"

:: What, the energy blast? ::

"YES! What else?"

:: Oh... well that's simple really... :: Kakarot said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. 

He led Vegeta over to their usual boulder and sat down. Kakarot took a moment to adjust his position, smoothing his pants and curling his tail while Vegeta brushed off the dirt and grass from his fall, giving them both time to recover from the awkward situation before he continued.

:: That bright light you saw was an expulsion of my inner spiritual energy, given form. Some humans call this energy 'ki,' the shopkeeper told me. Do you know about ki? ::

"...No."

:: It's the energy inside living things. Every living thing produces a personal energy, you see, people, birds, frogs, insects– everything. I am able to control and concentrate my own energy and expel it outward, so I can use it as a weapon or a useful tool for anytime I might need fire or need to eradicate anything annoying or unclean. That's how I could live in the jungle and have NO bugs or parasites, Vegeta. :: he said wryly, raising an eyebrow. :: I manipulate my inner energy to repel the pests and keep them away from me. Do you understand? That's the best I can explain it. ::

Vegeta was blown away. "Y...yes, I think so. That's ... absolutely amazing, incredible– I've never heard of such a thing. Hey, why haven't you ever shown me that before?"

:: Well, you seemed so skittish about the mind-link I thought it would be best if I waited a while to show you ki manipulation.::

"I am not "skittish!' I... Wait, you said all things have this inner energy. So that means me, too? Could you, er, possibly teach me how to use it like that, to give it form?"

Kakarot studied him for a moment, his eyes suddenly soft and distant. :: Mmm... No, I don't believe you would be able to... Not as you are now. But I'm sure, sometime in the future... :: he trailed off, a knowing smile upon his lips.

As I am now? thought Vegeta. What the heck does that mean– 

:: So just how long have you been spying on me from up there? :: he asked with a teasing smirk.

Vegeta turned scarlet again, mortified, and pulled away. "Uh? Oh... W-well I was– I was just curious... I just wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you weren't destroying the place! Do you know how much this greenhouse cost?! I–"

:: Look, Vegeta, I'll show you some ki tricks. :: Kakarot had dared to gently clasp his hand without invitation. :: Here, watch this, and calm down... ::

Vegeta shut his mouth and watched. Kakarot formed an energy ball between his hands, then lowered his head and blew a long steady breath upon the ball, causing it to break apart into a hundred tiny orbs of light, drifting softly through the air like dandelion seeds. Awestruck, Vegeta glanced around at the greenhouse, which seemed to have been transformed into a forest full of fireflies. 

He followed one light with his eyes as it drew closer to him, gasping as it landed on his nose and broke apart into golden sparks. The moment it touched his face he felt an incredible warmth, a brief feeling of wholeness and completion and satisfaction, as though he had just eaten a warm and nourishing meal and was now pleasantly full. 

The saiyajin stood, held his hands over Vegeta, and spread them out and downwards, leaving a golden arc of light in the air above his head and shoulders. Points of ki light fell down upon Vegeta like lazy snow, and he closed his eyes to savor the feeling, his body benumbed by the tender sensations.

Amazing, he mused. It's absolutely amazing. _He _is amazing...

****

A/N I couldn't resist some fear-of-needles mayhem, since the "be sure to vaccinate your pet" element was so appropriate. Sorry about the bathroom stuff; it was probably not something you wanted to think about (I tried to write it as delicately as possible). Vegeta's still not sure whether to treat Kakarot as more like an animal or more like a human. Hey, realistically, you keep an animal in an enclosed space and you have to consider these things! Heh... ehheh...^^'''' Anyway I hoped the lovely ki scene at the end made up for it. Next post should be by the end of this week; I like these next two chapters better than these two. 

In chapter 5: Kakarot causes trouble inside the mansion, and Vegeta's dreams grow more vivid...


	5. Showing Off

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg 

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

A/N Time for chapter 5! Again, a huge thank you to everybody reading, both at ff.net and at Saiyanslash, and a thank you especially to those who leave reviews. I save them all! I'm glad nobody seemed to mind chapt. 4; I was worrying and worrying about it. I know this fic isn't a masterpiece (it's my first chaptered fic, after all), but I'm fairly happy with how it's coming along and I'm trying my hardest to do a good job and make it an enjoyable read. If any accomplished writers out there have any ideas on how I can improve my writing style, please feel free to tell me.

****

Chapter 5: Showing Off

Three weeks after Kakarot entered the irascible businessman's life, Vegeta felt a sudden burning desire to bring the saiyajin into the house and show him the rest of the grounds. He sent away all of the staff for the evening and night, and after Kakarot's meal he led the surprised creature out onto the dark lawn. Kakarot tread slowly, his eyes scanning the area (unfamiliar territory called for caution, after all), until Vegeta grew too impatient and dragged him up to the house.

Once inside he allowed the saiyajin a minute to regain his bearings, and to marvel at the vast and elaborate foyer. Then, smirking, Vegeta began the tour, telling Kakarot about the world-renowned designers and architects he had hired to build the mansion, and about the rare and high quality materials used in every part of the grand estate. He extolled the fine marble floor, the custom made carpets and Persian rugs, and the hardwoods used in the staircase, wall moldings and furniture. Every description included, of course, the phenomenal expense of each luxury item. He showed him the boardroom, for private meetings at the house, and his home office, and arrogantly told him that he made important decisions here every day that affected the lives of countless people, that he regularly crushed rivals and competitors and could destroy a man's career with a signature if he so wished.

As Vegeta slowly led him through the house he pointed out some of his favorite paintings, statues, and art pieces scattered around the walls and corners of the mansion, and gave their market value. He explained why they were valuable in the art world, how much he had to pay dealers, and what he had to go through at auctions to attain them. 

While looking, Kakarot idly snatched an apple from a tempting fruit basket displayed on a table and brought it to his mouth. Only at the last second did he realize it was fake, and turned it over in his hands for examination. He couldn't fathom why someone would want a fake fruit around instead of the real thing. 

Vegeta noticed this and laughed at him. "Fooled you didn't they? Yeah, they're some of the most realistic I've seen– cost a hundred dollars each! They look good there. I picked them up at Vicente's Gallery, same place I bought that Armani over there." 

He pointed to a statuette of a fresh-faced young woman with a greyhound by her side. Kakarot strode over when Vegeta wasn't paying attention, picked it up and peered at every nook and cranny, then set it back down on its stand with a clatter.

"Be careful with that, you idiot!" Vegeta roared. "That's an out-of-production, limited edition, members only Armani piece! Do you know how much that's worth, goddammit?!"

Kakarot could only stare in bewildered shock at his friend's outburst. Finally he made a sheepish and apologetic face to try and soothe Vegeta's temper. He reached for his hand but was slapped away irritably.

Vegeta sighed and scowled. "All right, enough art history. Let's try something else."

The saiyajin had been most fascinated with his 17th century Dutch paintings, which depicted the everyday life of peasants, but he quickly lost interest in expensive bric-a-brac. Kakarot's attention steered back toward Vegeta as usual, as he played with Vegeta's hair, wrapped his tail around his arm or waist, and pulled at his clothes and collar as he often did, grinning mischievously. Vegeta had hoped the saiyajin would be vastly impressed by his possessions and power, but he seemed to regard the mansion and its riches as only mildly interesting oddities, meant to enjoy for a moment and then disregard.

"Come on."

Vegeta led him to the basement, but on the way they passed another Armani, this one even more detailed and expensive than the first. Sure enough, Kakarot grabbed it and examined it. Vegeta stopped and twitched with fury and apprehension. Dammit, I'll wring his neck if he breaks that thing! he fumed. What did I just tell him? However, this time Kakarot set the statue back down with the utmost care. Vegeta's features softened slightly in pleasant surprise. Huh... He _does _listen to me... 

Kakarot looked up at him and flashed a huge toothy grin, once again seeking approval. Vegeta shook his head and chuckled. "You're something else, monkey-man." 

Still grinning, Kakarot ran to catch up with him. He threw his arms around Vegeta's neck and pulled him back against his chest in a sportive hug, refusing to let go and thus forcing Vegeta to trudge awkwardly until they came to the stairs. His good humor vanished, however, as soon as they came to the entrance door of the downstairs room and Vegeta flicked on the light. What kind of place was this?

Inside sat Vegeta's personal weight room, well-stocked with over a dozen state of the art workout machines, as well as a large TV/VCR combination and sound system to stave off boredom. Vegeta entered and extended an arm in presentation. "Not bad, eh? I like to keep in top shape, as you can see; I refuse to fall into the stereotype of the fat, doughy executive. I can bench press 350, you know," he declared smugly. "That's more than most guys a head taller than me can manage." The braggadocio was lost on Kakarot though, since he had no idea what a bench press was or that "three-fifty" meant three-hundred-fifty pounds of weight.

"Well, come in here!"

Kakarot took one hesitant step inside the room. He was horrified. All of these machines looked like a cross between torture devices and the spring-loaded traps hunters used to ensnare animals. Vegeta only made things worse when he clicked on the TV. The saiyajin knew about television, but the noisy chaos of flashing, frantic images grated on his senses. He hated having to filter out the demanding voices of news reporters, insurance salesmen, and medication spokespeople in order to hear Vegeta. 

"Come over here, I said!" Vegeta barked, pointing to the ground at his feet. "You act like someone just stepped on your grave. Jesus! These things don't bite. Stop acting like you're afraid of a bike and a treadmill."

His tail wound tightly around his waist, Kakarot gingerly threaded through the machines, careful not to touch any of them. Vegeta unfortunately motioned him over to the most intimidating of them all, the universal weight machine. 

"Come here, I want you to try out the bench press on this thing." Recently Vegeta had grown terribly curious about the full extent of the saiyajin's strength. Kakarot was so easy-going and eager to please that Vegeta had begun to think of him as a sort of large dog, until the day he'd noticed the sizeable boulder they usually sat on in the greenhouse had been moved closer to the pond. Kakarot was the only person who could have moved it.

"Sit here and try out 400 lbs, to start with. It's all set up. I want to see what you can do." Kakarot shook his head in refusal. Vegeta's brow furrowed, his temper rising again. 

"What? What do you mean, 'no?' What's the big deal about you and this weight room?" 

Kakarot grimaced helplessly, staring uneasily at the machine. He reached for Vegeta's hand again, but he snatched it away. 

"I told you to stop doing that without being asked! Now stop jacking around and sit here; I'll show you what to do." Again, a head shake. 

"God, you're a stubborn ass! I don't know what the hell you're afraid of. Look, I'll demonstrate." 

Vegeta sat down on the bench, and barely stopped himself from pulling his shirt off, as he suddenly remembered the shopkeeper's third rule. He felt ridiculous doing weights in a turtleneck and had always doubted that Kakarot would actually bite him, but he had kept the pact thus far and was reluctant to break it, especially with his pet being so difficult at present. Vegeta laid down and slid himself under the handlebars, inserting the pin at the 350 lbs. mark. 

Meanwhile Kakarot watched, ashen-faced, sure that the guts of the machine would at any second clamp down on Vegeta's head and smash him to a pulp. He tugged insistently on Vegeta's arm.

"Knock it off!" he spat. "Okay, now you see what I'm doing? You hold this and press upward till your arms are straight. It exercises your chest. Now pay attention..."

Unfortunately, in his impatience at Kakarot and his efforts to show off, Vegeta ignored one of the most basic rules of weightlifting: warm up first and work up to your max weight, don't start at your max. Vegeta jerked the handlebars upward– and immediately strained a muscle.

Kakarot had been standing there awkwardly, growing nauseous as he worried for Vegeta, while the overexcited, squealing voice of an empty-headed teen girl introducing the latest bubblegum pop music video grated on his sensitive ears. He was sure the evil machine would spring shut on Vegeta any time now–

"Ah! Fuck... Now I've done it. Hsss!"

Vegeta sat up, wincing a bit at the pain and holding one side of his chest. Glancing to the left, he locked eyes with Kakarot. The world froze as he realized his pet was staring at him, wild-eyed and terror-stricken, on the verge of total panic. Oh, no. No no no no no no, don't freak out on me! he prayed. Vegeta made the mistake of widening his eyes in apprehension, slightly hitching his breath... 

A split second later a flash of red filled his vision, and before he knew what was happening, the saiyajin had scooped him up with one arm and with the other sent a tremendous blow to the weight machine. The hulk of the apparatus twisted with a deafening squealing and clanking of metal, weights flailed, and Vegeta's $6000 machine went rocketing through the air, demolishing a punching bag in its path. It bowled over the free weight rack, sending weights of all sizes scattering across the room, crashed through the TV, and finally blasted a huge hole in the plaster wall.

"Yaahhh! What the fuck– my weight machine!"

Before Vegeta had time to appreciate the destruction he found himself upstairs, being rushed into his bedroom. The creature laid him down on the extravagant California king size bed and began to fuss worriedly over him, smoothing his hair and touching his face.

"Get off, get off! Wha–? Hey! Stop it you fool, you act like I'm dying!" Vegeta protested loudly as he pushed away the hands that yanked off his shoes and then prodded and attempted to massage the pain away.

"I'm fine! Get off, I don't need a damned nursemaid! Huh?"

Without warning, Kakarot had vanished out the door. 

Christ he's fast– he almost disappears from sight, the reluctant patient thought as he sat back up in bed. Kakarot returned only seconds later with a handful of hot, wet towels. He pushed Vegeta back onto the bed and pressed the towels to his chest, as Vegeta began to protest again.

"Look– Hey! Crap, now my shirt is soaked... Look, I don't need all this, it's just a little pain– stop treating me like a child with a scraped shin!"

Kakarot only gave him a stern look and pulled the comforter up to Vegeta's neck. After this he crawled onto the bed, curled into a ball, and watched him.

Vegeta could only stare back, incredulous. "You're not taking no for an answer are you?" he said dryly. Kakarot flashed him a wicked smile. Vegeta let his head flop back against the pillow, bursting out in laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation. He'd made a fool of himself on the weight machine, and now the creature wanted to play emergency room. 

"Think you're a doctor now, huh?" Though he had to admit, the towels were helping. "Ahhhhh god... you wrecked my weight room. You completely pulverized half my machines, you asshole. How the hell am I going to explain that?"

Kakarot was unapologetic about the destruction. He instead reached out a hand, placed two fingers against Vegeta's lips to stop them from moving, then gently placed thumb and middle finger against his eyes to shut the lids when Vegeta glanced at him.

"All right, all right, I get the message. I'll shut up and go to sleep like a good boy and recover from my horrible, life-altering injury, okay? Why don't you go on back to the greenhouse, you're probably sick of me by now anyway."

Kakarot only stared at him.

"If you think you're sleeping in my bed you'd better think again! Now go on, I'll be fine."

Kakarot grudgingly crawled off the bed, only to reappear on the floor by Vegeta's side of the bed.

"Wha–? You can't stay there either! I don't want you watching me while I sleep! Now get out, I swear to you I'll be fine; I don't need you standing watch like a guard dog. The servants will be returning in the morning anyway, I can't have them seeing you. Go, go! Have a good night."

Vegeta crossed his arms and turned his head away, nose in the air, signaling the end of the conversation. 

Kakarot reluctantly got up and padded out of the room, sparing him one last concerned glance before he left. 

Vegeta relaxed under the covers and shook his head. What a night. So much for impressing the saiyajin with wealth and power. That fool had caused thousands and thousands worth of damage and he couldn't truly bring himself to be mad at him– he just seemed so concerned for his well-being. His father would have ignored him, even mocked him; Buruma would have called him a show-off and demanded he see the doctor in the morning. But Kakarot insisted on doing it himself.

Slowly, thoughts dissolved into oblivion as he drifted into a satisfied sleep...

Vegeta's body twisted and strained under the sheets, captive of a second, still more vivid wet dream. The fog surrounding him was lighter, and he was under the impression that it now barely obscured his invisible lover. 

Strong hands stroked him and smoothed over his skin, firm, moist lips kissed and suckled down his body and back up again. Deft fingers enclosed over his manhood and pulled with confident strokes, as the body behind him pressed up against his back. Long, soft hair spilled over and tickled his neck and shoulders, as his head arched back, mouth agape in a low moan. 

His lover was very tall, of that he was sure now. Perhaps a supermodel... who had he seen on the television the night before? No matter. The sensations were exquisite, the heat and harmonious fit of their flesh unparalleled. He felt so comfortable with this lover, so at ease, so much more free than with any he had bedded before, for this time he could trust completely; there was nothing to prove. 

The lover tugged upon his earlobe with perfect teeth, pulled and rolled taut nipples as Vegeta gasped and writhed in pleasure, before running agile hands down the inside of his thighs to begin a final assault on his burning member. Firm strokes, moving faster, harder up and down his rigid length, a second hand fondling, squeezing, lightly scraping fingernails across his heavy sac, and then suddenly a third entity within him, probing, then grinding against a wondrously sensitive spot inside... 

Vegeta screamed hoarsely, firing out an arc of thick cream into the endless haze. He felt as though the ejection would never end, as the tsunami of orgasm slammed through him. 

A loving, proud kiss on his jawline. Panting and weak-kneed, Vegeta struggled to turn his head. He had to know the identity of his nebulous lover– who was she? 

His squinting, straining eyes met only the sight of impenetrable fog. 

****

"Mr. Oujisama...? Mr. Vegeta, sir?"

Who's talking? What...?

Vegeta felt spots of consciousness filter into his mind, dispersing the fog of sleep. Timid hands shook his arm.

"Sir, it's morning... Are you okay, sir?"

Blearily opening his eyes, Vegeta focused upon the face of his youngest maid, a thin and careworn young Latino girl.

"Paloma... What are you doing in here... waking me up... What the hell...?"

Paloma immediately began to apologize in her bird-like voice. "Oh, I'm so sorry sir, you know I wouldn't bother you, but this young man was insistent that I check up on you. Why are you sleeping fully dressed?" she added as an afterthought.

Vegeta rubbed his eyes and temples. "Young man?"

"Th-the strange one, sir. I've never seen him before, assumed he was a guest of yours. He seems to be... mute? Or doesn't speak English–"

Vegeta's heart stopped. Oh God... She's discovered Kakarot. That fool let himself be seen, I'll kill him! Wh-what can I do– I can't think straight! Wake up, Vegeta!

"He seemed very worried; he dragged me up here. I found him curled up on the floor just inside the main door, sleeping. He must've been waiting for the servants to arrive– I guess he didn't know we come in through the kitchen entrance." She glanced to the side and Vegeta jerked his head around, only to see Kakarot sitting cross-legged against the wall on the floor not five feet from him, staring anxiously.

Vegeta melted into the pillows in relief. The saiyajin was in his human form. 

Shit, I'd almost forgotten he could do that. Is that my father's T-shirt? he wondered.

"I-If I might ask sir... Who is he? It frightened me a bit, to find a strange boy sleeping in the main hall. Is he one of the staff? A friend of yours? What happened?" She pulled the tangle of now dry and stiff towels from him.

"Oh... Ah– yes. I strained a muscle in the gym, that's all. It hardly even hurts now. He was overreacting... This is Kakarot. He's tending the greenhouse while Buruma is away."

"Kakarot, what a funny name! So that's why you told Josef to stay away from the greenhouse. He was quite angry with you," Paloma tittered, then cringed at the death glare he sent, the same one he gave every time someone became too familiar with him.

"I don't give a shit what he thinks. He'd better do as I tell him if he wants to keep his job!"

Paloma shied away and averted her gaze, not wanting to ignite his infamous temper more than she already had, and busied herself with opening drapes. "Um... Kakarot, sir?" She whispered meekly. 

"Oh... Well, he's just an idiot boy I took in out of pity. I caught him sleeping in the greenhouse, and he was starving, so I decided to be a Good Samaritan and give him a job," Vegeta stated.

How unlike you, sir, the little maid thought.

Meanwhile Vegeta puffed with self-righteousness and continued the story of his saintly generosity. 

"No, he can't speak, and he's slightly retarded too, I'd wager– has no place to go, no possible way of surviving out there alone, so I did him a favor– let him take care of the plants. That's simple enough for him. I'm the only one he trusts– he doesn't like people. I think he's been mistreated in the past," he whispered behind a hand to her, "so he likes to keep to himself. I've had the help stay away to give him his peace."

Paloma couldn't keep her mouth shut. "But sir, he doesn't act afraid of me... And wouldn't it be better to have him get used to the rest of the staff?"

"Who the hell would be afraid of you?! Don't you dare presume to tell me what to do, you little shit! Make yourself useful, get the fuck out of here and make me some damn coffee!"

"Ah! Yes sir!" Paloma squeaked, fluttering toward the door and tripping over her feet.

"And stay the hell away from the greenhouse if you know what's good for you!" he roared after her down the hall.

"And you," he rounded on Kakarot. "You get your ass out of here too– get back to your greenhouse! It's past saiyajin bedtime. GO! Everyone leave me the fuck alone for a few damn minutes!"

Kakarot, who did look tired, pushed himself off the floor, but apparently moved far too slowly. Vegeta booted him in the butt.

"Yiii!"

"Move! Out! Back to your nest!"

After Kakarot had trotted down the hall Vegeta stomped back inside, yanked off all his clothes and stepped into the bathroom. He tried to calm down under the soothing hot shower spray.

Thank God that wet dream was over before she came in, he brooded. That would have been beyond embarrassing, me hard and moaning in front of the help. And goddammit, now the staff knows about Kakarot. But it should be all right though... I think... But maybe just to make sure I'll have a lock put on the door, to keep them out... and to keep him in.

What an embarrassing night. And yet he couldn't forget how the saiyajin had stayed out in the lobby all night, in a form he disliked, just to make sure he received help.

Vegeta pushed everything out of his mind, in order to rally his strength and sensibilities for a day of business.

****

A/N The maid Paloma isn't an insert character, but she is kind of a personal joke. I watch the soap opera 'Passions,' I'm ashamed to say, and some of the main good-guy characters are a Latino family, of which Paloma is supposedly the youngest. She's a character in name only– nobody's ever seen her, she's only there to bring in once they need a new character in the future– she's been supposedly sent to live with relatives for money reasons. So I put her to work for the world's most difficult boss, Vegeta. Yes, I have a bizarre sense of humor. 

Watch a few episodes of Passions, and then try not to scream insults at the TV. It's the most ridiculous, infuriating soap you're likely to find. The bad guys always seem to win and the good guys are so damn dumb you can't really root for them either, it takes ages for anything to happen, and the writers leave plot holes the size of Mt. Everest. Why do I keep watching it, why why why!? Sigh... because it's on during lunch, and it's something I can talk about with my mother since she watches it too. One cool thing though: a girl who used to go to my church is married to one of the characters, the blonde cop named Hank. She brings him with her to our church for Xmas and Easter– and yes he is as handsome in person as on the show! 

In chapter 6: After a certain someone trespasses in the greenhouse, Vegeta finds out what happens when Kakarot *really* gets angry...

  



	6. Uninvited Guest

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

* * *

Chapter 6: Uninvited Guest

Peace returned to the mansion for a time, until the dreary, rainy Monday when Kakarot was awakened at noontime. The click and creak of the greenhouse door would have captured his attention at any time, since it always heralded the arrival of his favorite person, but Vegeta never came this early, never interrupted his sleep.

He crouched within his treetop nest, listening, and extended his senses. The sound of unfamiliar, clicking footsteps met his ears. No... this was not Vegeta's walk... not his breathing, not his scent– this person felt all wrong. A stranger had come. Kakarot's face tightened into a grim mask as he stole away from the nest.

Buruma Briefs had returned to the greenhouse.

She strolled wistfully down the path, appreciating the greenery, surprised that Vegeta had maintained the little forest. She wondered if he'd kept the place beautiful for her or because he didn't want an investment to go to waste. Probably a combination of both.

Buruma sighed and bent down to admire a waterlogged bromeliad, then fondly caressed the glossy green leaves of a creeping vine. She did miss this place. It was her special sanctuary, the place where she could go to escape from Vegeta and find some peace of mind after their frequent verbal battles.

That was all in the past now, she reminded herself, or it would be if she could ever convince Vegeta to let go.

As she approached, Vegeta's collection of tropical birds exploded out of a nearby bush, streaking upwards and circling the vaulted glass ceiling.

"My god, are those new?" she murmured. "He actually bought new birds. How strange– he never showed any interest in the greenhouse before." Her eyes glimmered with despair as she watched them. "Is this another of your efforts to draw me back, Vegeta? I'm sorry, but no amount of money you spend can change how I feel. It's over between us."

A barely noticeable rustle in the nearby bushes drew her attention, and she began to wonder if it was really _her _presence that had upset the birds.

"Vegeta, is that you?"

The groundskeeper did say he'd been coming here a lot, she thought. She walked over to the bushes but found nothing. The birds overhead shrieked and trilled, growing increasingly agitated.

"Vegeta? Come on, Vegeta, I know that's you. Stop playing with me, you're making me nervous. Look, please... I brought the divorce papers with me." She held up her briefcase. "Would you please sign them? I'm tired of fighting over this; I'm not going to change my mind, no matter what you do. Vegeta? Vegeta!"

Buruma strained to listen, but heard only the sound of fluttering wings and pattering rain. But she could sense someone... sensed that she was not alone. Was it really Vegeta? Hiding and stalking quietly was not like him at all– he preferred confrontations and loud, dramatic arguments.

Where was he? Buruma spun around, hearing the swish of tall grasses to her left. Or was it a shaking of leaves in the trees above? Suddenly the greenhouse grew deathly still– not a rustle or a peep or sweep of feathers. The thick silence pounded unnaturally in her ears, and apprehension gathered in her stomach and seeped down her legs. She felt rooted to the spot. The cold, energizing fire of true fear seized her brain and instinct sent her an message, sounding so loud and so clear that all other thoughts vanished: Get out, NOW.

Buruma turned on her heel and dashed headlong down the stone path to the exit, never looking back, never stopping till she reached her car. Trembling from head to foot and covered in a sheen of sweat, the businesswoman cranked the gears into reverse and with a squealing of tires fled the estate.

It was just my imagination, she told herself desperately, it wasn't real...

But no matter how she tried to convince herself, for that split second when she turned to run, she knew she'd seen a pair of hateful yellow eyes glaring murderously from the darkness beyond the trees.

Vegeta returned from his day-long business trip after dark, in an unusually good mood. Rather than unpacking, he decided that his first task upon returning home would be to feed Kakarot and the birds, and he enjoyed putting the meal together. But his efforts would go unappreciated that night: for once, Kakarot was uninterested in food.

As soon as the door shut behind him Kakarot swung down from the trees, slamming onto the ground in front of him with a violent thud. Vegeta was shocked to find that instead of his customary smiles and gentle welcomes, the saiyajin's face was contorted into a snarl of rage. Kakarot let out a low growl and slowly straightened, his powerful form tensed and towering in a uncharacteristically intimidating manner. With every hair bristled, he appeared even larger than normal. Vegeta could only stand like a statue and gape at his display. Faster than quicksilver, the saiyajin snatched up his wrist, his grip almost painfully tight.

:: Who was that woman?! ::

Vegeta's brain kicked back in. "Who– wha– what woman?"

:: The woman who intruded here this morning, and woke me from my sleep. Blue hair, blue eyes, pale skin. She was looking for you! ::

"Oh! Th-that must have been Buruma. Probably came here on her lunch break to nag me about those damn papers again–"

:: Who is she?! ::

"B... Buruma? Well, she's my wife. I've been trying to force her to come back to me, but she insists she's in love with that worthless Yamcha Rengetsu, she–"

Kakarot tossed his head in outrage, eyes wild. :: Keep her out of here! Keep her away! ::

Vegeta stared in wonder. Is this how saiyajin reacted to intruders? He had no idea Kakarot was so territorial. "Hey, look, I know Buruma's a spoiled pain in the ass, but she's nothing to get so worked up over."

:: Keep her out! Keep her away, or I'll take care of her myself! How dare she come here, when I've so clearly made my claim! ::

"Look, I'll just put a lock on the door to keep her out–"

:: I WANT HER TO STAY AWAY FROM WHAT'S MINE! ::

The saiyajin's fist slammed down like a pile driver, pulverizing a decorative rock to powder even as his eyes never left his companion. Vegeta jumped at the cracking and exploding sound and gawked in amazement.

"Holy shit!" he breathed. Before he had time to think anything else the saiyajin grabbed him by both arms and shoved him to the ground. For a moment Vegeta panicked as he felt the weight of the beast on top of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, fearing the worst. Kakarot was going to kill him. The beast was going to tear him apart, he was going to break his neck, he was... nuzzling him? Vegeta regained enough of his faculties to peek up at him.

Brusquely, almost frantically, Kakarot not-so-gently butted heads, and rubbed and slid his head, face, and chin over Vegeta's head and face, and also his neck and shoulders. Vegeta winced in confusion. What in the world?

Kakarot had rubbed and nuzzled him like this many times before, but it was never so forceful, so needy. He sat stiffly in his grip, frozen, unsure of what was happening or what to do. Finally after several long swipes where the saiyajin pressed down especially hard, he pulled back and stared him down, those intense eyes full of meaning. Vegeta's wide-eyed gaze locked with his, and he received the distinct impression that Kakarot wanted to tell him something, but couldn't say it aloud.

Vegeta broke the gaze nervously and turned to the side, attempting to get up, and to his great relief Kakarot made no move to prevent him. He staggered over to the door and hurriedly brought the bundle of food over.

"W-well... Here's your– your food. A good meal calms the nerves, s-so why don't you go ahead and eat something..."

Kakarot glowered at him for a moment, then prowled over and tore into his meal.

Vegeta had to get out of there. "Ahem! So, you're obviously still upset, and I'm tired– I had several flights today and a stressful meeting– so I'll just go and let you cool down, all right? And I'll see you tomorrow. Good night then!" He quickly turned and hurried out, fully aware that the saiyajin still monitored his every step.

As Vegeta strode up the dark hill to the mansion, the rush of adrenaline wore off and he began to shiver. The incident had him more shaken than he cared to admit. He ran his hands over his scalp and clutched at his hair in an effort to steady himself. Knees wobbled and gave out, and he sat, stupefied and reeling on the vast lawn under the stars.

"Good God...! What... What the hell _was _that? I mean, what the hell? I've never seen him like that..."

Kakarot had never shown him true anger before. The fit he'd thrown after the vaccination incident had been more of a hurt and pouty fury, like the tantrum of a two-year-old. This however... He had become honestly terrifying, like an unstoppable force of nature, and had apparently stayed angry for hours on end until his owner returned. Vegeta could almost see the force of his rage billowing around his form like a red aura. And the destruction he was capable of...

What kind of control did he truly have over such a creature? Only the force of his word and his will. Kakarot always called him "Vegeta," or "friend"– he hadn't called him Master since the day they'd first met, and he had laughed as he said it.

Vegeta shuddered and tried to purge from his mind the dreadful thought of what would happen if Kakarot ever got out of his control. No, no, Kakarot was crazy about him, loyal. He was just upset about the trespass on his territory. But now Vegeta knew that he could be dangerous. If one of the servants ducked into the greenhouse on a whim, they would be in deep trouble. Not that he cared especially for the servants– they were a dime a dozen– but he still didn't want them killed, or Kakarot discovered in his animal form. He would have to get a lock put on that door. A deadbolt. And a combination lock.

Vegeta glanced back toward the greenhouse. Damn, he'd left the lights on. Ah, who cares, just let them burn. He wondered if Kakarot was still eating, or if he was destroying the greenhouse in lingering rage.

What was that nervous rubbing all about? All of Kakarot's manhandling would have knocked him over if he hadn't been held tight. Vegeta sighed. At times like this he really wished he had a book or a website to refer to, to understand more about the saiyajin's behavior. The shop owner claimed to have told him everything he knew about saiyajins. Vegeta doubted that was the truth, but he felt there was no chance of forcing more information out of the bizarre man. The saiyajin seemed an unusual mix of animals, combining the loyalty and friendliness of the dog, the intelligence of a primate, and the stealth and grace of a jungle cat. He wondered if any of the saiyajin's behavior was shared by those animals.

Yes... yes, he remembered that house cats frequently rub their heads and bodies up against people and furniture, it was one of the most well known feline traits. And Kakarot purred too... Yes! Maybe if he read up on the behaviors of cats, it would explain a few things about Kakarot. Vegeta sprang to his feet with renewed vigor and dashed off toward the mansion.

Within minutes he was seated at his home office computer, logging on to the Internet. Vegeta laced his fingers together and stretched them backwards to pop the knuckles as he made himself comfortable, and rolled up his sleeves. He noticed that his left forearm was already developing bruises from where Kakarot had grabbed him.

"Why that crazy bastard!" he exclaimed, staring in wonder at the reddening blotches. He'd have to remember to tell him off for that tomorrow.

Turning back to the computer, he called up the home page to a popular search engine and thought about the best way to find what he was after.

"Okay... 'cats' is way too general. Cat behavior. No, let's try 'cat behavior' and 'rubbing.'"

He submitted these prompts, then congratulated himself when the links to several promising websites showed up on the screen. Vegeta scanned the list, and chose the official website to a prominent and reputable humane organization that seemed to offer a wide range of information about dogs and cats.

"Great, okay. Cat behavior..." he scrolled down the page, quickly skimming the article. "Feline leukemia, no... teaching your cat not to jump on tables, no... always spay or neuter your cat; no, don't think Kakarot would like that... Hmm! Redirected aggression..."

Vegeta slowed down to peruse that section more thoroughly, reading aloud to himself. "'An aggression response directed toward an animal that did not initially provoke the cat. When a perceived threat is out of reach, a cat may redirect its anger on a more available subject. For example, a housecat sees a strange cat walking through the yard– what he perceives as his territory– and since he cannot attack the outdoor cat he may release his frustrations by attacking the owner or a fellow pet_._' Hah! Isn't that wild; I had no idea cats did that. I wonder if that's what happened– Kakarot was angry that Buruma was in his territory, she left, so he went off on me instead. Yeah, okay, we'll go with that explanation. All right, now to find 'head rubbing.'"

Half a page down he found exactly that: a section labeled "Scent marking (Face rubbing)." Vegeta grinned in triumph and continued.

"Alright, perfect. 'Rubbing of the body and head on objects is called scent marking, leaving an identifying scent mark upon valued objects within the cat's territory.' Heh! He values me. 'Such markings are impossible for humans to detect. "Bunting," or head-butting and rubbing the head against one's face, denotes affection toward a person or animal and is usually never performed on inanimate objects. It is a gesture of family acceptance and love.' How flattering; that's kind of cute. 'The meaning can often be unclear or double, however, as sometimes bunting can become indistinguishable from other types of rubbing and marking, which indicate...'"

Vegeta's breath caught in his throat. "'...Possession.'"

A hot shiver rippled down his spine; he felt paralyzed. Reading that one word was all it took for him to realize now that the saiyajin _had_ acted in a very possessive manner. But... but he... did that mean he thought...

Vegeta shoved away from the computer abruptly and began to pace.

"W-well... He's a monkey anyway, not a cat! Dumb, Vegeta. What a waste of time. Stupid of you to lump some exotic primate in with the common cat! A-and even if he does think he's marked me as 'his,' it doesn't mean anything. Cats mark their owners and it doesn't mean anything, the owner is still in charge. No, doesn't mean a thing..."

Vegeta found himself unwilling to sleep that night. Unable to take refuge in his weight room, he walked the halls of the mansion and the length and breadth of the estate in the dark, damp air, walking mindlessly until the dawn. Exhaustion pleasantly numbed his mind, purged away the nervous energy.

Abandoning work yet again for the day, Vegeta instead called the local home warehouse store to hire one of their handymen. By lunchtime, the strongest lock available was installed on the greenhouse door.

* * *

A/N Don't worry, Kakarot's not going to become abusive! He was pretty damn jealous though . The information about cats was compiled and summarized from quite a few different websites on cat behavior (and also a little from experience with my own cat).

In chapter 7: Vegeta takes comfort in Kakarot's company after an upsetting confrontation with his father, and comes to a frightening realization during the night that follows...


	7. Epiphany

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

A/N I've got chapter 7 done! -pant pant- I'm sorry this one took so long, it was like pulling teeth to get going on it for some reason. But it's a long one (well, long for me), twelve pages– with a tangy burst of lemon! Vegeta's father is -not- a nice guy in this fic, by the way.

---

Chapter 7: Epiphany

As the evening grew long, Vegeta found he could no longer create any excuses to put off Kakarot's mealtime. He entered the greenhouse with a great amount of hesitance that night, but was relieved to find Kakarot acting perfectly normal, as though the events of yesterday had never happened. Pleasant smiles and nuzzles greeted him. Feeling more confident, Vegeta proceeded to reprimand Kakarot about his behavior yesterday and about the bruises on his arm.

The saiyajin just stared at him until he mentioned the bruises. Kakarot was alarmed that he'd hurt Vegeta, even in such a small way, and apologized earnestly. In truth, he was hardly sorry for his tantrum– he considered a rage display perfectly justified for when someone else should come around speaking so intimately of their relationship with his chosen– but bodily harm in such a situation was inexcusable. Not to mention Vegeta sounded quite flustered and frightened by his actions. Why should he be afraid? His friend was so hard to understand at times. But he had already made so much progress with Vegeta– they couldn't backtrack now!

Desperate to repair any interpersonal damage, Kakarot lay down on the ground and curled his body around Vegeta's feet, pressing his forehead to the top of one foot in a supplicating gesture similar to a kowtow, the highest form of repentance among his kind. Vegeta became embarrassed that he'd even brought it up. He was only trying to give him a hard time for being so outrageous the day before, after all.

"Get up, get up!" Vegeta nervously ran a hand through his hair. "I wasn't even really that mad, and it's only a little bruise..."

Kakarot hopped to his feet and grabbed Vegeta's hand, nuzzling it fervently, then massaged and soothed the forearm that sported the bruises under the sleeve.

:: Forgive me, Vegeta! I meant no harm. What can I do to earn your forgiveness? ::

"You're forgiven, okay? Just– just calm down. I was only blowing off steam; I never thought you'd take it so seriously. Jeez!"

:: Oh, thank you, Vegeta! Vegeta, my good friend. You are such a good person, so generous. :: he gushed, continuing to caress and embrace the injured arm.

Vegeta slowly tugged his arm out of the creature's grip, but Kakarot only moved behind him and hugged him from the back, rocking gently. Vegeta blushed. The creature was so naive. He was neither good nor generous, but rather cold and heartless. No one who knew him would dispute this fact.

But to hear such an honest compliment from the creature– or from anyone, for the first time in his life– filled him with an embarrassed regret. Sometimes he wished he could be the good person Kakarot described, but thought it impossible for someone like himself. Good and generous people didn't know how to succeed in this harsh world anyway; and there was no place for nice guys in business. Still, he felt guilty that he could not be the person Kakarot thought him to be.

:: Thank you Vegeta– I'm so sorry. :: Kakarot interrupted his train of thought. :: I had no idea you were so delicate. ::

"Yeah, well... Hey, what? I am not delicate!"

Insomnia afflicted Vegeta again that night, and took its toll on his work performance the next day. All his thought patterns seemed to veer back toward Kakarot. He was utterly unable to concentrate on graphs and data and market analysis, and let his VPs do all the work in their latest executive financial meeting. He drove home with his brain on automatic and trudged up to the main doors, exhausted. All he wanted to do was have a Cointreau, feed Kakarot and then hopefully fall asleep reading, but the stars were not in his favor that evening. His head maid met him at the door.

"Sir! Oh, good, you're finally home. I–"

"Whatever it is, _not now_. I'm too damn tired."

"But sir, it's important! Your father is here; he wants to talk to you as soon as possible."

"Wha– My father?! You've got to be kidding, he's in Europe!"

The maid shook her head grimly.

"Ahhhh, _shit_. What the fuck is he doing back here now... Thinks he can just barge into my house whenever he wants..." Vegeta continued grumbling as he stomped up the stairs, wondering if he could avoid his father long enough to at least change his clothes and take a hot shower. However, Vegeta, Sr. had heard him come in and stopped him in the upstairs hallway, his demanding voice booming from behind his son and carrying throughout the mansion.

"Vegeta!"

Vegeta winced in aggravation. Very deliberately, he turned around and gave his father a death glare. "Father, what are you doing here? I thought you were doing business in Germany."

"I was. And I don't appreciate having to travel four thousand miles to clean up your messes!"

Vegeta's look turned questioning.

"What the _hell _is wrong with you lately, Junior? You've been skipping important meetings, you're hardly ever at work and when you are you're useless. Some valuable opportunities have gone down the drain because you've been daydreaming and in general letting the company go to shit! Not to mention you've been pissing off important people in our social circle and also our partners, our contacts, our associates– should I go on?"

"I- I've been distracted lately."

"Damn right, you've been distracted! You just blew off the latest stockholders meeting– do you realize how bad that is for our image when the company head doesn't even show up? They think we don't have any respect for them or any sense of responsibility! You've been passing up golf dates and dinners with powerful people who could be essential to us in the future– with the governor, dammit! You snubbed the governor! And you didn't attend the benefactor's appreciation banquet at the college, you didn't go to the Hagan anniversary dinner, or even bother to RSVP– I know the man's boring as a rock, but we need him! I spent over an hour apologizing to him today for that."

"I- I totally forgot." Vegeta's face burned. To have his father reaming him was bad enough, but worse yet, he was doing it so loudly and in the open for everyone to hear. He could see the servants peeking out of doorways, taking in every word of his chastisement.

"Get your act together, Vegeta!" he spat, glaring down at his son with disdain. "Don't forget that I still hold the reins in this company and I could have you denoted to mail clerk if I wanted. So stop dicking around!"

"Father, I didn't mean to let things go around here, I just... I just... I've been preoccupied."

"With what?! The servants tell me you've been wasting most of your time in that stupid greenhouse. And I know exactly what you've been doing in there."

"Uh–"

"Stop mooning and brooding over that woman! Either get her back or forget about her and find a new wife. Her family's no longer useful to us anyway. Strap on a pair and get over her, or get her back. I'm tired of our family serving as the laughingstock and source of gossip for all our friends."

"All right, all right, Father! You've made your point. Jesus..."

"Hh, well what do you expect. It takes a lot to get through that hard head of yours. I'm staying at the Palace Excelsior for the next week and a half just to make sure things get back on track. I expect you to repair the damage you've made, both at the company and to our social standing. So your woman played you for a fool and ran off with common trash. Take care of it one way or the other! Stop acting like a heartsick teenager and get your mind back on business," he sneered. "You hear me, little man?"

"...Yes, Father."

Vegeta, Sr. gave him one last cold look then turned and left without another word.

Vegeta was left standing, quivering, white with rage. A faint feminine laugh came from several doors down then was immediately stifled. Vegeta spun around in fury. Who was that?! They were fired, dead fired, and he'd make sure they never worked again! But his audience had vanished into the walls.

He clutched his head with both hands and grimaced, his entire body throbbing. Not only had his father insulted and disciplined him like a child, his entire staff had witnessed his shame. He had never felt so utterly humiliated. Hot tears seared the corners of his eyes, but he forced them back, choked back his emotions with a snarl. Real men didn't cry; they never gave in to emotion. Real men got mad.

Vegeta stumbled out of the hallway and down the stairs, trying to go calmly and leisurely even though all he wanted was to run blindly out of there as fast as possible.

Before he knew where his feet were taking him, he found himself inside the greenhouse, slamming the door.

"GODDAMMIIIIIT!!"

The frustrated scream nearly made Kakarot fall out of his tree. He rushed to the entrance, only to find Vegeta venting his rage on a hapless palm tree. Kakarot watched in wonder as Vegeta furiously sent a barrage of frantic kicks to the base of its trunk. Finally he fell back, panting, hands on his knees. He'd knocked off quite a few pieces of bark but otherwise the tree just stood there, unaffected, which only served to make him feel even more incompetent. Kakarot took that moment to approach him.

:: Vegeta, what's wrong? Are... are you angry at me again? ::

"No! No, it's not you, it's my father, he– he just– God, that son-of-a-bitch!"

Vegeta gave the tree another good kick, caught his foot under one of the overlapping plates of bark, lost his balance and fell down.

"FUCK IT!!"

More dejected than ever, he knelt there, heaving, and hung his head low, desperately trying to gain control of his emotions and prevent Kakarot from seeing his face crumple. With a fierce act of will, he forced the imminent sobs back, opting instead to slam the ball of his fist into the ground again and again.

Kakarot grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back, his face fraught with worry. ::Vegeta... Please stop! You must calm down. What's happened? ::

Vegeta slumped in the saiyajin's arms for several minutes before his strength and his senses returned. He told Kakarot of the exchange between his father and himself.

"God! Years and years I work my ass off and sweat blood for this company– I work just as hard as him if not harder, and I've done everything he ever expected of me to hold up the family name, and I have a few little problems and he comes down on me like a neutron bomb! Okay, so I've been ignoring a lot of my duties lately– that's really your fault, you know!– but he didn't have to... to fucking humiliate me like that. Oh, and at the end he just _had _to slip in that crack about my height! Bastard! He KNOWS how much that bugs me! I know my father thinks it's reeaaaally funny that I'm so short, and he knows how much I hate that 'little man' bullshit. It's not my fault I got my mother's fucking 'short' genes. I get my father's looks and her family's short curse. Haven't I always had the worst luck?

:: Is being short so bad? ::

Vegeta craned his head around to give him a disgusted look. "Are you nuts? Of course it's bad! No kid says, 'Boy, I hope I'm small and short when I grow up!' They want to be 'big and tall!' This society has no mercy on short people, men especially. In commercials, and movies and TV shows, it's always the little guy who's made to look like a fool. There's no short heros! I notice these things!" Vegeta pulled out of his embrace and began to pace.

:: Vegeta... ::

"It's still fine to make fun of short people, and you're supposed to laugh along like it doesn't bother you. Well, fuck them! Sometimes I wish I was born in some other country where the people tend to come short. Maybe I'd fit in better there."

Vegeta fixed Kakarot with a savage glare. "Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?!"

Kakarot shook his head vigorously.

"Pah! What the fuck do you know?!" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air in disgust. "You're as tall as my father. What are you, 6'4," 6'5"?"

:: I don't know... ::

"Probably were king of the jungle where you came from. Tall people like you have no idea what it's like for short guys!"

:: Vegeta, I don't think– ::

"And, and you know, I read about a study they did once that said short men tend to hold less important and less respected jobs, and for every inch a guy is taller than average height– that's 5' 9"– he makes $800 more a year. And there was another study that said almost the same thing. I'm 5'4"! Yeah, I know I make $800 faster than most guys on the planet, but... but sometimes I wonder if I hadn't been born into money and power– if I had to make it on my own from scratch– if I ever would have gotten so far as I am now."

:: Vegeta... ::

"And they did another study! On 60 Minutes, they did a study– they did this thing where they lined up some guys behind a 2-way mirror, and had this group of women pick which one they wanted, and none of them picked the short guy! At least not until the testers told them he was super-rich and -talented, and made the other guys creeps. You see how it is? I was lucky to have Buruma, and now she's left me."

Kakarot bristled at the name, but decided to let it go for now. :: None of these women could even talk to the men? :: he questioned.

"Well... W-well no... But that's not the point! Instinctively they didn't want a short guy. If you're short you're biologically inferior. The women don't want to pass on their genes with you."

:: Vegeta, you're being ridiculous. ::

"Ridiculous?! You tell me that's not the way it is! I dare you to tell me that's not the way it is in the animal kingdom!"

:: Humans aren't animals, Vegeta. ::

"Hah! That's debatable!"

:: I mean they aren't like other animals. ::

Kakarot sighed deeply. :: In the wild, among monogamous animals, a competent female considers all aspects of a male before she makes her choice of mate. And among species that keep harems the largest and strongest rule, but the fast and intelligent often sneak in to mate with the females when the alpha's back is turned. Being smaller does not make you inferior, Vegeta. Do the human females really find you undesirable?::

"Well... There are always women who hang on me and tell me they want to sleep with me, but I know it's just my money they want, not me. They want to latch onto someone with power to make themselves look good. They don't care."

:: Are you sure about that? ::

"Yes!"

:: Vegeta... :: Kakarot gently pulled him over to sit down upon their usual boulder, and embraced him again from behind. ::I am sorry your father was so cruel, and that your society has made it difficult for you. But I think you make things worse than they are, and create problems where none exist. ::

He opened his mouth to protest but Kakarot continued.

:: Do your people really have no short heros? ::

"No!" he snapped, then thought for a moment. "Well... in the Greek sagas, Ulysses wasn't very tall, and he was one of their most important heros. I always loved his story, when I was a kid."

:: There! You see, you thought of someone right away. ::

"But..." Vegeta sighed and shook his head in despair. "Ah, you just _don't _get it."

:: No, I suppose I don't. :: Kakarot began grooming him in an effort to soothe, tenderly working his fingers through his hair and over his scalp.

:: But I just can't fathom why you would consider yourself less because you are smaller than most. You are healthy and strong, your features are symmetrical and fine. Your ki resonates so clearly and richly– it sings to me. You are an excellent example of the human race, Vegeta. Very beautiful. ::

Vegeta felt his face burning, and knew he had to be turning beet red.

"M..." He fumbled for words. "M-men aren't beautiful, they're handsome."

:: Very handsome, then. ::

Vegeta went silent. Kakarot talked as though this was simple, plain fact. It unsettled Vegeta to receive such honest and outright compliments from someone without dismissing them as empty praise from a social climber. He'd never received compliments like that from a man. Women, yes, but they always wanted something: sex, or favors, or gifts. The men he worked with and associated with were the first to tease him. Kakarot obviously didn't know how the game was played. Men bonded by competition and stupid jokes. They did not have such... intimate conversations.

Yet, it felt good to unburden himself on someone. Vegeta normally seethed and brooded for weeks after such a battle with his father, but sitting there leaning against the warm, solid form of the saiyajin, listening to his reassurances, the entire dreadful situation seemed almost a memory. He would have to face his father again tomorrow and repair the damage his slacking off had caused, but right now he felt okay, even relaxed. Amazing, how talking to a trusted friend could work wonders.

Vegeta reflected on this. Kakarot was turning out to be the first real friend he'd had since grade school– possibly his first true friend ever. The saiyajin cared nothing for status or business connections, or political or monetary favors. He asked for nothing from Vegeta except a meal a day and the pleasure of his company. The emotional intimacy Kakarot offered him so freely had terrified him at first. In his mind, opening up to others meant showing weakness, the most disgraceful and dangerous of mistakes. But little by little the saiyajin's loving nature chipped away at his defensive walls. Soon they would be nothing but rubble.

Lithe fingers strayed from his hair, gliding over his ears in swirls and nudges. Kakarot caressed his temples and jawline, slipped fingers under the turtleneck to rub the back of his neck.

Vegeta felt hypnotized by this new addition to the grooming routine. How utterly blissful... What had he been upset about, again? The days without sleep were catching up to him, and he decided to continue the conversation in order to stay awake.

"I suppose complaining like this is pointless. I ought to save my energy for more important things, like figuring out how to get Buruma back."

Kakarot's face clenched and those gentle hands almost fisted in Vegeta's hair, but he held himself in check.

"What do you think I should do, Kakarot? Any ideas?"

:: I don't like her, Vegeta. You don't need her back. ::

"No, no I have to get her back. I need her. If I can just make her come back to me I'll have one big problem solved, and my father will get off my case about it."

Kakarot stopped grooming altogether as his fury swelled. No no no! Mustn't display, it frightens Vegeta, he told himself. Better to ask him the question that had bothered him ever since Buruma came to the greenhouse. He released all of his tension with a sigh, and half-heartedly resumed grooming.

:: Vegeta... ::

"Mmmn?"

:: Do you... love this Buruma? Is she truly your mate? ::

"She... she's my wife." Vegeta was silent for long minutes before answering the first question. Did he love her?

"No, I suppose I don't. But I don't have to love her, I just need her with me. I feel like a fool and a loser, not having a wife. She broke our contract, went back on our deal."

:: Ah. :: A wide grin stole across Kakarot's features, his tail lashing.

"I'm not good with the dating thing; I've got no patience with it. I went to expensive private boys schools all my life, so I never had a lot of... experience with women. Sure I had a few 'mutual' one-night stands during drunken binges in college, but as for real relationships, Buruma was my first and only. Our parents set us up and pushed us to stay together. We started dating, she seemed to like me and I didn't mind her, so we got married. No big deal. I was out of college; it was time to find a wife."

:: Did you share with her your troubles, as you've done with me tonight? ::

"What? Hell, no! I couldn't say things like that to a woman, I'd lose face. I've never even complained to anyone about being short. When I was a kid in school I had to be twice as hard and twice as tough in order to be respected, to make up for my size. If I admitted it bothered me, that would have ruined my whole image."

Kakarot shook his head, still grinning heartily. :: Vegeta, you do not need to worry about any of these things anymore. You have me to look out for you! ::

Vegeta had to chuckle. Sure, why not? If you're not a big guy, have a big guy on your side.

"I don't need looking after. But thanks for the offer."

They shared an amiable silence as Kakarot continued the grooming. When Vegeta could no longer keep his eyes open, the saiyajin tapped him awake.

:: Vegeta, you are tired. You should go to bed. ::

"Uh? Ahm, yeah. Yeah, I need it," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He said his goodbyes and staggered out the door, still half-entranced from the grooming.

Uhh... hurts to walk. Something's cramped. What's the deal?

Eventually he came to his senses enough to notice:

Oh lord, I've got a hard-on! Go away, go away! How embarrassing. I hope Kakarot didn't see. It was all that ear stroking; I shouldn't have let him do that. But it felt so good at the time...

Vegeta wondered why he suddenly felt such an acute sense of deja vu.

Soon he crawled into bed, his mind skipping from one topic to another.

I forgot to feed Kakarot! he remembered. But he didn't complain at all, didn't even say anything. I hope those birds are still there in the morning.

Vegeta mulled over the events of the night, and it dawned on him that several times he had heard Kakarot's voice when he'd been several feet away from him. Didn't they have to be touching? Perhaps... perhaps the bridge between their minds had grown stronger, now that they had grown closer than ever before.

Vegeta finally slept that night, slept for hours on end in the warm, womb-like dark of a dreamless sleep. At one point he felt the weightless sensation of being suspended in space, blind from the unrelenting dark. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, solid ground formed under his feet, and he was able to stand. He became aware of his body, then; the weight of his limbs and head returned to him. The rhythm and sound of his breathing became strangely prominent as the pitch night slowly ebbed into gray. Something was coming; some event of great importance was imminent.

Vegetaaah...

A voice called from out of the darkness, and Vegeta spun round toward the sound. Yes, so familiar, so welcoming... so familiar! He knew this voice, knew it well– but where, who? His mind could not make the connection. The identity of the voice taunted him, dancing on the edge of his unconscious.

His fantasy lover had returned. How wonderful. First that healing, sweet slumber and now the skilled hands of his lover offered him release once again. This time, he would learn the identity of his phantom love. He had no idea how he knew this, and didn't question why.

Fingertips glided over his chest, and his body gave a convulsive shiver at the anticipated contact. His mouth opened and his head lolled to the side as he released a low, involuntary moan. Eyes shut and brows slanted upward as the need for contact became desperately strong. Sensing his need, firm arms embraced him, pulled him back to mold against the tall body behind him.

A soft, snakelike entity slithered across his naked body– first coiling one leg, tightening, then releasing and trailing off to conquer the next leg. It meandered over his shuddering stomach in lazy patterns, experimentally teasing his chest and trailing up the most sensitive skin of his neck, tickling almost playfully under his chin. His lover held his right arm out straight, and the appendage coiled the length of his arm like an armlet of ancient design. It squeezed gently, and repeated the action on the opposite side.

I want you, Vegeta pleaded silently. This is all I need; this is all I want. I want to be with you forever... feeling safe... and loved... and free... I want to be set free...

His lover stepped back and the entity streaked slowly down his back in a zig-zag pattern, cupping each buttock as it reached his lower torso, finally settling at his groin and encircling his now fully hard member. It gave a slow, leisurely stroke.

"Haaahhh..."

He felt his lover's grin against the back of his neck. As the appendage stroked him below, a hot tongue flicked out to stroke him above. That talented, wet tip brushed delicately over his ear, following the curve of the outer shell, moving downward to massage the back and lap at the lobe. Lips closed over the tender flesh and sucked insistently. The ear was one of his hot spots, and Vegeta felt himself losing it fast.

Hands explored his chest and waist, kneading the pectorals, rolling and pulling the nipples, sometimes delving lower to grasp at the firm curve of his shapely cheeks. What exquisite torture.

The slow strokes of his member, the caressing hands– and all the while intense kisses planted along the back of his neck, up his jaw and over his shoulders. Sharp incisors lightly pricked the skin in strategic places– a sensual acupuncture– and Vegeta felt electricity spark under each nip before the flat of that busy tongue swept over each abused area.

Vegeta felt himself building, building– moans streamed continually from his mouth, his head swaying from side to side.

Oh god, yes... Break me, and show me your face. I want to see you... to know you...

Light continued to filter into the landscape. He could now make out the leaves of trees and the swaying of branches.

Lips closed over his other earlobe, stroking and swirling and then sucking hard, as fingers fanned over his throat, tilting his head upwards so that he appeared as a saint in rapture.

Vegeta, the voice purred, just tell me, show me, give me the word– and we will be together forever.

Yes, I want to stay with you!

You have to show me...

The warmth at his back vanished, and he felt his hips secured in a strong grip as the molten heat of his lover's mouth swallowed him whole.

The stimulation was too much. He clenched his hands in the long, thick mane of the person below him, and felt the damn break. He came, screaming, into his lover's waiting mouth.

His head swam; his body felt as light as air.

Vegeta opened his eyes to see the sun dawning on a distant horizon, the rays of light falling upon an endless, unbroken jungle.

:: Show me, Vegeta... ::

Hands cradled his face, and he looked down...

Down into the fiery amber gaze of Kakarot.

He blinked, eyes wide. His mystery lover had been... Kakarot? No... no, this couldn't be, this was not what he expected! Was it?

He had been dreaming of making love with a man– not even a human one– and had enjoyed it more than anything.

No, he could not accept this! No!

"NO!" Vegeta bolted upright in his bed, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding out of his chest. Breath became hard to capture, and he found himself gulping air. He could not dismiss the dream when the evidence of his lust polluted the crimson sheets before him.

How could he imagine such a perversion– with his loyal pet? How could he ever face him again?

The fantasy had become a nightmare...

---

A/N Hmm, seems Vegeta's going to have a lot of trouble owning up to his feelings X)! Their relationship is in place, so now I can start building to the climax!

I really do think our society(or at least the media) is hard on shorter-than-average people (a lot of subtle messages as well as outright insults), especially men, and if you don't learn to brush off the teasing and not take it personally it's one of those things that can easily affect your self-esteem. (I'm 5'4" and really dislike the "darling little doll" comments and never being able to just go into a store and find the right length of pants; I'm sure it has to be worse for guys.) So I wanted to explore Vegeta's frustrations with it, since he gets angry about everything and deep down doesn't feel very good about himself to start with. Kakarot will make him feel better! (Conversely, great big guys are teased too, stereotyped as lumbering and stupid– so I guess it can go both ways.)

In chapter 8: Vegeta and Buruma's big fight, and a deadly resolve...

P.S. They brought Paloma into 'Passions'. Ah, a brand new character to _loathe_. I'm glad I made Vegeta scream at her!


	8. Resolve

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

A/N Ahh, an even longer wait for this update than for the last, sorry! I have lots of good excuses but who cares– what's important is that chapter 8 is here, the longest chapter yet! (That helps make up for the wait, right?) Again, thank you so, so much to everyone who is reviewing; seeing concrete proof that people are out there reading and enjoying means so much to an author!

If you recall, at the end of chapter 7 Vegeta had just woken from the dream and learned that his mystery lover was Kakarot... I think it would be a natural thing for guys who'd previously considered themselves arrow-straight to freak out (or at least be a little flustered) at the first sign of real homosexual feelings, since our society is still pretty homophobic at heart. When I was brainstorming this part of the story, I often thought of the movie_ Gods and Monsters_, where after the older man told the young gardener of his lust, the gardener felt the need to go to a bar and take a woman home to reestablish his sense of self. I wanted to do something similar to that with Vegeta.

---

Chapter 8: Resolve

For almost two hours Vegeta sat rigidly against the headboard, shell-shocked. The sun had traced its path well into the firmament before he finally stumbled out of bed on shaky legs. He made a beeline for the bathroom, then thought better of it and hurried back to yank the soiled sheets off to take them along, so the staff couldn't find out. He knew it was a mistake to sleep in the buff that night! He dragged the sheets to the sink and scrubbed furiously at the stains, then dropped the bundle to the floor and hid himself in the shower. Every nerve felt hyper-aware.

Vegeta curled up at the base of the tub, letting the hot water from the shower stream over him. Rubbing his thumbs into his eyes and over his forehead and temples in a circular motion, he attempted to massage away some of the tension in his panicked head, which still felt as though it thrummed with electricity.

Ugh, this massage didn't help nearly as well as when Kakarot– No! Don't think about that!

Vegeta clutched his hair and grimaced, his inner turmoil like bile in his throat. How could this have happened? How could he have had such dreams? In hindsight he felt like such a fool for not knowing all along that the phantom lover had been his pet. The sharp teeth, the height, the tail as the mysterious fifth limb, the attentions so similar to how Kakarot had soothed him the night before– it should have been obvious, it was so logical! But then dreams rarely abide by the convenient rules of logic.

What possessed him to dream such a thing, and not just once, but repeatedly? He was not a faggot, he was not a zoophile! Never before had he felt aroused by a man. He barely even tolerated the touch of other men, except in formal handshakes and friendly shoulder jostles. Until Kakarot. Why was he always the exception? Kakarot, whom he let caress his hair, massage his head and neck, hug him and nuzzle him daily. Now he could never regard the other in the same way again.

The dream itself did not disturb him. What he found alarming was that even now, in the cleansing light of day, the feelings it had unearthed only multiplied and grew stronger. He tried to dismiss the dream as a fluke, an aberration resulting from the period of abstinence, but after indirectly experiencing such ecstasy he found that the idea appealed to him far too much. The more he thought about the dream, the more it turned him on, despite his best efforts to denounce it as ridiculous, perverted weakness.

Just thinking about it now, and seeing in his mind's eye those intense golden eyes, those skillful hands, that teasing tail, all brought together in one unparalleled emblem of wild masculinity, made him feel... made him feel... No, _no!_

With a desperate snarl Vegeta leapt up and twisted the shower knob to ice cold, desperate to tame his shivering, burning body.

"Damn you, Kakarot, you're turning me into a fag! I am not a fag, I won't do it, I won't, I _can't!_ You– I'm normal, I always have been! What the hell have you done to me?!"

Vegeta stopped short then, eyes growing wide as he formed a horrifying conjecture. What if his body and mind had not betrayed him? What if this _was _all Kakarot's fault? Of course, it made perfect sense. Kakarot was the one who wanted him, not vice versa. The possessive behavior, the dislike of Buruma, the petting and caressing and saying he was beautiful– it was the creature's desire he felt, not his own. He harbored no such mutual desires toward Kakarot... none at all. Kakarot had to be controlling him somehow, controlling his mind.

The thought filled him with both dread and a shaky relief. He was not a fag, but the saiyajin was trying to manipulate him. Hadn't he already shown he could command strange energies, and project his voice into the minds of others? Vegeta knew from the start that voiceless speech was dangerous. And now Kakarot had the audacity to play at some sort of mind control, entering his dreams, trying to put thoughts in his head.

Well forget it, furball, I'm onto you. I-I'm onto you...

Vegeta hurried out of the shower and toweled off nervously. What could he do?

Two versions of Kakarot appeared in his mind: one, the handsome, gentle face of the Kakarot he had known, always reaching out to him with smiles and loving acceptance, and the other, his mind's invention, a backlit, sinister version of his friend that sneered nastily and seemed almost cartoonish in his forced evil. Which was the true face? His sincerity could have been an act...

Vegeta briefly even considered returning him to the pet shop, or calling out the shopkeeper to come take him back. But if he didn't want to leave, how in the world could either of them get him out of that greenhouse? He tried to ignore the pang that shot through his heart at the thought of Kakarot no longer being down there in his little jungle, and no longer the part of his life that he had come to rely on. He had been a trusted confidante, a friend– but Vegeta was determined to stand firm.

He would not be controlled. He had already let his life slide too far downhill because of his obsession with Kakarot, like the young child who plays hooky to rush home and play with his new puppy. No more. It had gone too far. Feelings like this were utterly unacceptable. He had played long enough; now it was time to return to the real world to get his life back on track, and return to the ordered security of life before Buruma had left him.

Answers to the problem with Kakarot would have to wait.

Filled with a grim resolve, he brusquely pulled on his business suit and strode off down the hall, head held high, though filled with a peculiar paranoia that everyone in the mansion knew about the homosexual thoughts running through his head.

He could still get in almost a full day of work, and make some phone calls to the big names he had slighted. He would face his father with a haughty pride, and show him that he was made of sterner stuff.

Over the course of a week, Vegeta buried himself in his work, putting in twelve hour days. When he was not involved in business he worked on repairing social ties. His sleep was shallow and unsatisfying, afraid that if he allowed himself to let go and sleep too deeply Kakarot would ensnare him in dreams again.

When he did sleep he dreamed of the jungle, dark and wet and dense, the thick air pressing heavy on his lungs. Vines twined and swarmed, choking away all stultifying traces of modern civilization, replacing it with the sweet and simple chaos of Nature's order. Keening, primitive noises called to him from out of the dark, like the voice of an old friend, beckoning him to come and lose himself in the primeval night forever.

He was a tyrant to his staff, demanded results and new ideas from his executives, and even berated and ruthlessly fired a man who'd been pissing him off. Determined to further reinforce his power and masculinity, he went so far as to contact an agency for a high-priced call girl. He was Vegeta Oujisama– tough, powerful, and masculine– not some limp-wristed, flamboyant fag! A good roll with a beautiful woman would help him purge these unseemly feelings from his body.

The endeavor ended in disaster however, when during their activities he became annoyed that she would not use her tail to pleasure him. After realizing what he'd thought, he threw her out of his bed, told her to collect her money on the dresser and go. Vegeta glared at her retreating figure and his heart sank further as it dawned on him what type of girl he had asked for: tall, athletic build, lots of long dark hair, piercing hazel eyes. Damn it!

The office was his only respite. He was determined to sweat Kakarot out of his system, drive his mind to the point of exhaustion so that he no longer had the strength to think of anything but grey oblivion. For every time he stopped to rest, those thoughts crept in, thoughts of that tall, powerful savage whose eyes stripped his soul bare. How much he wanted to caress every part of him, and be touched in return. The only escape was constant, unending work, to keep his mind always occupied with a problem to be solved.

His redoubled efforts at work even impressed his father and earned him a few words of praise, which he scoffed at but inwardly treasured. Indeed, this was the best way. To get back to the way things were– that's what was best for him. But the absence of Kakarot in his life had undeniably left an aching void. Before, he had never known such closeness with another person, and now that he knew what he was missing the absence seemed cruelly obvious.

An entire week he diligently avoided the saiyajin, still at a loss for what to do with him or how to face him. Every evening he would toss Kakarot's food in and then take off back up the hill. Once he dared to try and get a look at the saiyajin from his old hiding place on the humidifier, but as he feared, the creature now knew to look there for him. Kakarot had been asleep at the time, and watching his peaceful features made Vegeta begin to have some doubts about his malicious intents at mind control. Kakarot seemed to feel his presence, though, and awoke. Almost immediately he spotted him and tried to approach, but Vegeta was already halfway to the house.

When the weekend came Vegeta threw a huge formal dress cocktail party, quite extravagant for one put together on such short notice. The sprawling guest list reached well over one hundred. Alcohol flowed freely, a live band played, and tables of fancy appetizers and sweets sat for the taking.

Vegeta passed gracefully through the crowds, flattering, joking, making comfortable idle talk, and all in all demonstrating the highest level of the art of schmooze. Teasing jabs about the state of his affairs or the breakup with his wife were taken with unusual good humor, and his role as flawless host charmed all those around him. With this party, he fully returned to the good graces of his colleagues and peers. Bruised egos had finally been mended and he was caught up in his business dealings.

Vegeta grinned, feeling quite pleased with himself as he sipped his third Rob Roy. Everything had improved immensely. Even the dreams and frightening sexual urges had diminished after not seeing Kakarot for so long. He spotted an old friend of the family and approached.

"Schwartzman! You made it! How are you, I haven't seen you in ages." The man turned and they exchanged a hearty handshake.

"Why Vegeta, you old bastard! God, you still look the same as ever. So what's it like to be _free _again? Eh? Eh? I bet those honeys are beating down your door. Man, I remember those wild days before I settled down..."

"Heh-heh, the only woman beating down your door now is your daughter, and she just wants your credit cards."

Schwartzman let out a belly laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. "Ha ha! You've got that right!"

"So where's she going to college in the fall?"

The following conversation detailed all the prestigious colleges Schwartzman's daughter had been accepted to, her GPA, her awards– basically a father's brag-fest on how beautiful and talented and wonderful his little girl was.

Vegeta had such a pleasant buzz going he didn't even mind listening. Neither did he notice the faint ripple of hushed, tittering whispers winding among the normal drone of conversation, or notice when someone behind him laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. His friend had started talking about the new car he planned to buy his daughter when the hand shook his shoulder insistently.

"Looks like somebody wants your attention, Vegeta."

"Hm? Wha...?" Vegeta turned, only half paying attention.

"OH JESUS!"

Kakarot, sick of being ignored, had decided to take his human form and come to Vegeta instead. So there he stood, in the middle of a crowded ballroom, frowning down on Vegeta with accusing eyes while lounge music crooned in the background and high society looked on in amusement.

Among the sea of tuxedos and formal gowns, Kakarot stood out like a sore thumb in the oversized grey T-shirt that he had adopted as his own, the dark boots, and the yellow gi pants that were baggier on him in his smaller form. Schwartzman took in his attire and snickered.

"Hey, take it easy Vegeta. Those drinks are supposed to make you mellow, not jumpy. Unless you owe this guy money, that is! Who's your friend? He's got quite the fashion sense."

Vegeta was struck speechless with horror and panic for a moment. Just seeing him and feeling his touch was enough for all those forbidden feelings to come swarming back, as surely as if someone had broken a hive of bees over his head.

"Um... Ah..." Vegeta struggled to compose himself. "This is my greenhouse keeper, Kakarot–"

"_Kakarot_? Well, nice to meet you, Kakarot! Put 'er there buddy!" he boomed, in his loud and condescending manner of overfriendliness.

Kakarot glared at Schwartzman's outstretched hand and then raised his gaze to scowl at him. "Hrrrr..."

"Wh... Did he just growl at me?"

"I-I'm sorry, he's not quite right in the head, and he has no sense of propriety," Vegeta cut in. "There, ahm, there's probably something wrong with the sprinkler system he wanted to discuss with me, it's been breaking down lately. Would you excuse me for a moment?"

Schwartzman nodded, eyes wide, as Vegeta charged away, snapping his fingers for Kakarot to follow. When they were safely out of the ballroom and at the far end of the hallway Vegeta stopped short, Kakarot almost slamming into his back.

"All right, what the hell is wrong with you, crashing my party like that?"

:: You've been ignoring me! :: Kakarot shot back just as angrily.

"I, I haven't been _ignoring _you, I-I've been busy!"

:: Suddenly so busy you couldn't stop to see me for even a few minutes? You've been ignoring me and avoiding me! You were never too busy before! You tried to look in on me without me knowing the other day and then ran when I saw you. Why, Vegeta? What's going on? Have I done something to offend you? ::

Oh, as if you didn't know! Vegeta glowered in silence.

"I..." Vegeta clammed up as a few latecomers to the party passed by. "Look, you have to go back to the greenhouse. We can't talk now, I'm in the middle of a damn party!"

:: Then come to visit me later! ::

"All right, all right. Give me about three more hours and I'll meet you in the greenhouse; I have to see all my guests out first. How did you even get out of there in the first place? The door was locked!"

:: I just opened it. Three hours, or I come back here. ::

"I said, all right!"

Kakarot turned and stalked off down the stairs and out the door.

Vegeta felt a wave of heat crash over him and began sweating profusely, so much that he had to loosen his tie and tight collar. The combination of the alcohol and seeing the subject of his taboo desires again was enough to make him pant.

Kakarot had broken that lock as though it wasn't even there.

Dumb, Vegeta! Dumb to think a shut door would keep him in if he didn't want to stay, he raged at himself.

What if the saiyajin did not take rejection well, and decided on an "if I can't have you, no one will" course of action? He had to find a way to keep him under control!

Three hours later on the dot, Vegeta straightened his attire and warily entered the greenhouse with a bundle of food and an additional large tupperware. Kakarot, back in his normal form, had been waiting for him on their boulder and leapt up as soon as he entered.

"Um, hi. I've got your dinner, and a bunch of the leftover appetizers from the party."

Kakarot's stern face softened at the prospect of special food. While he sauntered up Vegeta tried to focus on setting out the meal, cringing when the saiyajin walked right past the food to cuddle him instead.

"Hgh! No! D-don't touch me..." He thrashed in Kakarot's grip and was released quickly. His friend stared at him in concerned astonishment.

:: Vegeta, what is wrong with you? I don't know what to... Are you getting tired of me? Do you really not want to come see me anymore? Is that why you've been staying away? Please, tell me what's going on! ::

Vegeta stood stiffly as though preparing for battle, his face tight and his fists clenched as his mind worked furiously to determine how to breach the subject.

"Kakarot... Do... do you have any powers you haven't shown me yet, besides controlling ki the way you demonstrated and projecting your voice into people's minds?"

Kakarot's brow furrowed. This hadn't been the type of questioning he expected. :: No, I think I've shown you all the basic elements. ::

Vegeta shook his head. No. Unacceptable answer.

"I don't believe you. You ask me why I'm angry? Well, I'll tell you that I find your intrusions extremely offensive!"

:: Intrusions? ::

"How dare you trespass in my thoughts, and try to put ideas in my head! I just– I will not tolerate this sort of degradation. If you want to keep up these games I want you gone, out of here! I will not be some puppet for you to entertain yourself with. Fucking bullshit. I am just so furious with you– that you think of me so cheaply that you think you can barge into my mind and try to change me according to your whims–"

:: What? Vegeta, what are you talking about? ::

"Don't you dare deny it. You expect me to believe that when you can actually project your voice into my head that you can't also read my mind and put your thoughts and ideas in my head? Dammit, a man's mind is sacrosanct, a sacred privacy! Spying and trying to brainwash someone is the lowest, worst kind of evil, twisted–"

:: Vegeta! I've done nothing to your mind! What would make you think that? ::

"Liar! You look me in the eye and tell me you haven't been trying to control me, to change me!"

Kakarot took up his challenge and stared him down. :: I haven't! I don't have such powers, Vegeta, I doubt that anyone does. I can _feel _what people close to me are feeling, vaguely, but I can't see into their thoughts, or somehow enter their mind and tell them what to do. That's ludicrous! ::

Vegeta frowned, more unsure of himself now. Kakarot really didn't seem to have any idea why he was so angry, hadn't faltered or shown any sign that he was covering up secrets; but if Kakarot had not put notions in his head he would be forced to admit that his mind had concocted those dreams and feelings of its own free will. His pride would not allow him to acknowledge that he had homosexual urges, and for one not even human.

:: Vegeta, :: he tried again, :: What in the world made you think I was doing something like that?::

"You... you had to have done something to me! Before you came here I never felt things like– never thought about... about..."

:: About what? ::

Vegeta snarled in frustration and turned away from him, arms folded tightly across his chest. He might as well tell him sooner rather than later.

"I've been having certain strange dreams," he said lowly, "And just recently I've realized you're the other person in them."

:: Dreams? About me? :: An edge of excitement crept into the saiyajin's tone.

"A-heh-hem! Erm, well, just three, and ever since the last one I can't seem to stop having these crazy, ridiculous thoughts– thoughts I don't know what to do with." Vegeta felt Kakarot's looming presence at his back, knew he had come to stand directly behind him.

:: Wh-what was the last one about, Vegeta? ::

"Oh... It– we..." Vegeta felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple, and knew his face had to be bright red. "We were alone in a jungle at dawn, and we just... spent some quality time together..."

:: And I worshiped your body with my mouth and my tail... ::

Vegeta's eyes shot open. "What?!" He spun round and Kakarot instantly caught him by the shoulders, gripping him tightly, wild with glee.

:: That was _my _dream! We shared the same dream, Vegeta– my dreams merged with yours! Don't you see? Our bond grows stronger and stronger. We were meant to be together! ::

Kakarot bent down and crushed his lips to Vegeta's, invading his mouth with his tongue when Vegeta gasped.

Oh god...

Suddenly the saiyajin broke the kiss and drew back in alarm, as though he knew he'd committed a grievous error. Vegeta could only stand paralyzed and ashen-faced, walleyed in panic, emitting tiny high-pitched whimpers.

No. No– that kiss had been too goddamned delicious, more exciting and intoxicating than anything he'd ever felt, more addictive than cocaine...

He slapped the hands off of him, his voice little more than a whisper. "Get away, get away!"

:: V-Vegeta I'm sorry! I– I didn't mean to... I, I just lost myself for a moment, I was so happy. Please, I know I had no right to touch you–"

Vegeta turned and bolted without another word.

:: Vegeta, wait! Please don't go! I'm sorry! Vegeta!! ::

He heard Kakarot's voice fading in his head, and didn't stop until he had reached the sanctuary of his study. Still he couldn't make his heart stop hammering against his rib cage. He tried to deny, but knew what the saiyajin said was truth. The dreams had always come not long before he woke– the time when their sleep schedules overlapped.

All of his worst fears had come true. He wanted Kakarot of his own free will, and Kakarot wanted him in return, and they had already formed some sort of strange mind-link. This could not be happening, not when he had almost set things right again!

He needed his wife back. That would fix everything. With his beautiful wife by his side again these feelings would cease, and Kakarot would see that he was taken and go back to being just a loyal friend. Simple! A simple solution to a complex problem.

He needed Buruma back, _now_!

---

Early the next morning, Buruma found an unpleasant surprise awaiting her outside her apartment complex.

"Buruma!"

She wheeled around and gasped in surprise, only to find Vegeta, dressed in one of his most stylish suits, leaning casually against the building. He had made sure to look his most devilishly handsome, save for the circles under his eyes.

"Vegeta? How long have you been waiting there for me?"

"Hmm, since dawn. I wanted to make sure I caught you before you left for work."

"What do you want!"

He flashed her a debonair smile and presented the small but elaborate bouquet he'd been hiding behind his back. "For you."

"Oh... Vegeta... Vegeta, that's a very nice gesture but you know I can't accept that, it looks so expensive–"

"A hundred and sixty dollars, since you asked."

"Uh... yeah."

"Oh come now, take it. They'll only go in the trash otherwise."

Buruma accepted it with a sigh of defeat. "Look, Vegeta, what are you trying to do?"

"I want you to come back to me. I'd like to give you one last chance to be reasonable and say yes."

"Ahh, not this again! Vegeta, it's too early in the morning for this. How many times do I have to tell you, we are over. I was straight with you, I made myself clear!"

"Look, woman, I need you!"

"DON'T call me 'woman!' And you've always made it perfectly clear that you don't need anyone, least of all me."

"Well, I need you now, I can promise you that!"

"Will you please stop this? I have moved on, and I really wish you'd do the same. Look, you're handsome and suave and filthy rich. Scores of beautiful girls would flock to you if you'd let them, willing to put up with your crap in exchange for all the other benefits."

"Dammit, I don't want scores of girls, I fucking hate dating– I want you! I want things to go back to the way they were."

"Oh, and things before were so great between us? You just can't deal with losing at anything, Vegeta. I told you, I was sick of you treating me more like a business partner than a wife, sick of the whole lifestyle. I'm not going to break up the best relationship of my life to go back to our sham of a marriage!"

"Oh yes, with your little blue collar boy toy Yamcha. So, does he plan to pick you up tonight once he's finished his shift at the mall?"

"He is not a mall cop, he is a bailiff! A bailiff! Like in the courtroom!"

Vegeta shook his head in mock pity. "Tsk, so he couldn't be a real cop, eh?"

"Ugh, you nasty little–"

"What the hell does he make a year, $20,000? Pathetic!"

"It's a little more than _that_!"

"Does he take you out to dinner on food stamps and two-for-one coupons, then?"

"Salary is not everything, Vegeta! Yamcha knows how to be happy with less, and he enjoys his work, and I admire him for that."

"Spare me. You admire him for his tight ass and pretty boy looks."

"How dare you call me that shallow?! You see, you don't know me at all– you never knew me."

"So you keep saying. Listen, woman, I want to know exactly why you left, and why you think you're so much happier with him. I want specific details, not these vague reasons you keep giving me. You're not going to hurt my damn feelings, and I don't care how angry you think I'm going to get, I want some answers!"

"I don't think you're going to get angry, I know you will, and I also know you couldn't handle something like that. Please, will you just accept the way things are and give me the divorce? I'm so tired of going round and round like this."

"_Maybe _I will... if you tell me your damn reasons!"

Buruma fixed him with an even gaze, silent for a moment. "If that's what you want, Vegeta, then all right. The reason I left... is the same reason Yamcha would never have given me a bouquet like this."

"What?"

"He would never give me a bouquet like this because he knows I hate white lilies– they remind me of my grandmother's funeral. He knows me, Vegeta, knows me more in three months than you did in nine years. All the time we spent as a couple, and you still couldn't remember the lilies."

"Oh, of all the trivial–"

"It's not trivial! It's at the core of what I'm trying to tell you, though I don't know if you could ever understand. I wanted a more simple life, wanted someone who loved me and treasured me, not just needed me like a person needs a fridge or an oven in their home.

"You were always so cold, Vegeta! You never once opened up to me and let me inside so I could see the real you, see a real person. God, what I wouldn't have given for you to just come up to me and lean against me, lay your head on my shoulder and say something tender. It wouldn't even have had to be 'I love you'– an 'I'm glad you're here with me,' or a heartfelt 'I don't know what I'd do without you' would have meant so much! But no, Vegeta Oujisama was always controlled, always composed and self-contained, never showed emotion. When I was with you I felt so totally alone, like I was married to only the hard outer shell of a person."

"Oh, s-so this Yamcha comes blubbering to you about all his problems?"

"NO, but he _tells _me things, shares with me when he's having a bad day or when he's upset so I can put my arms around him and try to comfort and feel like I'm making a difference!"

"You knew how I was, so why the hell did you marry me?!"

"I _did _love you, Vegeta. I was so smitten. You were this larger than life hotshot that blew me away with your dazzling lifestyle and high-powered job. You never took no for an answer, bowed to no man, the sea practically parted before you. You took me to fancy dinners and parties and promised me the world. I was young. I thought there could be nothing better than living extravagantly with a dashing husband. And as for your moodiness and standoffishness, I stupidly thought that I could change you. I learned the hard way that you can't change someone who doesn't want to change. I grew up, and I needed more than an image. I was starving to death for intimacy, for some warmth!"

"We were great at intimacy. You can't say I ever disappointed you in bed! Can your little boy toy match that?"

"I mean emotional intimacy! The sex was always great, Vegeta, but I always felt like you were in competition with yourself, always trying to do better than the last time, be more impressive, thinking, 'how loud can I make her scream tonight?' You'd lay there next to me and go to sleep after we'd finished, and I'd lay there trying not to cry because I felt like I'd just had sex with a stranger. Just sex is not enough for a relationship to work!"

"You spoiled brat. I gave you everything, and you never appreciated any of it."

"You gave me nothing. You never loved me, Vegeta!"

"I-I did love you!"

"No, Vegeta, you love your fancy things and your money and power and your family name, and buying art pieces that sit out for a few months and then go into storage, and you love feeling like you're better than everyone else. I hated going out with your phoney, social climbing friends, and going to stiff parties with your people from work where I constantly had to watch what I said and did. I always felt like they were judging me, and then you would jump down my throat if I did the slightest thing to embarrass you."

"So I expected 110 percent from you. Is that so terrible?"

"Yes, because I was your wife, not your employee! I was fed up with it. There was no end to the ladder you climbed. You and your buddies were always striving to outdo each other in status, glutting yourselves on material extravagance. Nothing was ever enough. I want a simpler life!"

"Average, you mean, like the rest of the brainless swarming masses–"

"Ahh! You'll never understand. I wish I could make you see how wonderful it is to stop wanting and wanting and just be happy with someone you love. Last weekend Yamcha and I went to a baseball game and shared a hot dog with everything and a warm beer–"

"Ugh. He's so cheap he couldn't buy you your own?"

"I didn't want a whole meal! We shared a hot dog and a beer, and sat out in the hot sun and watched our team lose, and then we had dinner in an old family-run Italian restaurant. It was cheap and unsophisticated, and it was the best time of my life! Because I didn't have to worry, because I could be myself! And that's something you could never give me."

Buruma fell silent and Vegeta held her hard gaze, his face twisting in fury. When she dared to speak again, her voice was small and strained.

"Well, Vegeta? I gave you all my reasons, everything. Will you please give me the divorce?"

All he'd been holding in exploded outward and he grabbed her by the wrist.

"You fucking, selfish bitch! I will never give you that divorce, you'll never get it! I _own _the courts! I'll never let you go because you belong to me!"

"Vegeta, stop it! Let go!"

"I'm sure I could even persuade the powers that be to find some reason to fire your little Romeo, and make sure he never works in this state again. What do you think of that, darling?"

"You bastard, you wouldn't!" Her eyes widened with fear.

"Wouldn't I? I've been tolerant till now, I've played your games and put up with your girlish fantasies, but now I'm sick of all this bullshit. Time for you to come home."

He pulled her close and hissed in her ear, his voice heavy with venom. "Don't cross me. If you persist in refusing me I can make life very unpleasant for you _and _your sweetheart. If you really care for him, you ought to consider his safety."

Buruma's heart shuddered with apprehension. "I... I was afraid you'd do something like this. I didn't want to believe you'd stoop so low, but in the back of my mind... Please tell me you wouldn't really... wouldn't really–"

"You think I'm bluffing? Try me. Life's rewards go to those with ruthless persistence, and you should know by now that I've always been willing to do anything to get what I want."

Fast as it had come, her fear vanished, replaced by rage. She tore her arm from his grip and faced him.

"You know what? Fuck you, Vegeta! Do your worst! You're not as all-powerful as you might think you are. Yamcha carries a gun; he knows how to take care of himself. You want to hear what he said he'd do for me? He wants to marry me. He said if you started really threatening me that we'd leave town together, even leave the country if we have to! That's real love, Vegeta! He's willing to leave his job, his friends, everything he knows for me. Could you do the same? You won't win this time, Vegeta. You won't win!"

Buruma ran off, leaving Vegeta alone with his fury. Damn her, damn her, damn her! He wanted to kick something, kill something, abuse someone. She could've at least returned the bouquet, he could've given it to Ka– t-to his maids! His hardworking maids, don't they deserve flowers. Dammit! Here when he needed her most she refuses to help.

Yet Vegeta knew everything she'd said was true. He had showered her with jewels and designer clothes, but had never been able to share with her– theirs truly was a marriage of convenience. Bitter tears pricked his eyes, only to be blinked away before they could fall. So he had failed. He was a failure at marriage. What she asked for, he simply could not give. He was not made for tenderness, or for communion and sharing, and pride told him to scoff at rather than appreciate the simpler joys of life. It was his nature.

_Ah, but Vegeta_, Kakarot's imaginary voice sneered at him, _You never had trouble sharing with me, never held back. You remember _my_ favorite things, and with me at your side you could appreciate the simple beauty of a soaring bird, the ripples on water, the easy silence enjoyed in the presence of the _one you love_. My bond with you is a thousand times stronger than hers ever was! Come to me! Show me!_

"Nnngghh!" Vegeta clapped his hands to his head and shook it, trying to dislodge his badgering conscience, a conscience with the voice of Kakarot.

This had to stop. He could not love a man. His life with Buruma had been nothing but work and blind ambition, but it was what he knew, what he was good at, and what fit him best. The easy path. Though cold and empty, it offered a comforting, tempting familiarity and safety.

_I can offer you so much more, Friend Vegetaaahh..._

No! No more. Buruma would come back to him, whether she liked it or not. She would hate him at first, but he would try to be a little more understanding of her needs, and it would pass.

Vegeta's jaw clenched as a ferocious determination swept through him, and he strode away with the resolution of a martyr. He would handle this problem like a true business shark. When someone stood in the way of your goal, there was only one solution.

Eliminate the competition.

---

In chapter 9: The perfect crime...

A/N Just two more chapters to go! That Bulma/Vegeta fight was fun. I've got nothing against the VxB pairing, I just love to watch them fight. Oh, I adopted a new pet, everyone! (Tugs on leash) Isn't his fluffy pink collar cute? I got him from the International Humane Shelter for Abused Anime Characters. His name is Pooky! Er, Yamcha.

Chibi Yamcha with wolf ears and tail (throwing tantrum on floor): I can't believe you're doing this to me! You said you were on my side, you said you'd never bash me, you said you -sob- liked me!

Orchideater: I do like you, Pooky! I'm head of the Yamcha Anti-Defamation League and the Desert Bandit Defense Council.

Y: Those aren't real!!

OE: ...They're real in my head.

Y: But you're freaking killing me!

OE: I need it for the plot, dammit. It's important. In all the spookier Pet Shop of Horrors stories there's a murder or at least a death. Look at it this way: your noble sacrifice will help Kakarot and Vegeta get together.

Y: -SOB-

(Our sneaky chibi ouji with red devil horns and tail slinks in)

OE: Oh, sweetums, don't cry! Look what mummy has for you– a liquor-filled chocolate bottle. It's German! Ooo, yum-yum.

(Takes chocolate, still teary-eyed)

Vegeta: Hey, where's mine?

OE: Only people who hafta get killed get liquor-filled candies.

V: Hmph, I didn't really want one anyway. They're bitter.

OE: Sour grapes, sour grapes.

Y (slurping): Hey, what am I in this fic again– a bailiff? Do you even know what a bailiff is?

OE: Sure, baby, I've seen every episode of 'Night Court'!

Y: Oh lord...

OE: No, seriously, I know what they do.

V (turns to Y and leers): You know, Kakarot and I have an understanding, heh-heh... (Y feels hand on his thigh) Have you ever read "Fusion" by Johnnyjosh?

Y: Uh... -sweatdrop-

OE: Forget it, horndog. You're exclusively Goku's in this fic. Go on, you need to go get ready for the next chapter. Oh, hey wait a minute! Watch this. (scratches Y behind his ear, his foot thumps on the ground)

V: Bwahahah! That's hilarious.

Y: You two quit makin' fun of me!

OE: We're laughing with you, dear heart.

(Vegeta slinks off)

OE: So, you feel better?

Y: Nnh... A little. It's just, you know, with the exploding saibamen and the broken legs and the androids putting their fists through my chest and the Cell and the Buu and the Bebi and the crazy fangirls who make me out to look like this horrible man-slut... it's just _hard_, you know!?

OE: It'll be okay hun. Now you go on backstage, take a rest, get into your role, and get changed for the next chapter...

Y: Ohh-kay.

OE: So I can kill you.

Y: -Waaahaaaaahh!-

;p


	9. The Perfect Crime

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

A/N Chapter 9 is here! Heh, yes, Vegeta is a bastard in this fic, but I'm trying to walk the fine line between making him nasty and still making him a sympathetic character– hope I don't screw it up. To Tatoosh: I thought a lot about what you said, but I'm still going to try my original plan of attack for this story because I think it works in the end. I thought it would be a logical next step, considering Vegeta's state of mind at the moment (though logic does tend to abandon me at times). It's not a death for death's sake– at least I don't think it is– and what's important is the power trip Vegeta derives from it. Ah well, when the story is over tell me what you think. ;)

---

Chapter 9: The Perfect Crime

Vegeta clenched the steering wheel in a vise grip as he wove through the crowded streets and cursed the city traffic. Jitters of rage from the heated battle with his wife still wracked his body, but the accompanying adrenaline euphoria came moreso from dreadful inspiration. He couldn't possibly work today; he had to get home and think, and calm down.

The dark, vengeful thoughts that slithered across his subconscious in the past had returned, building, growing stronger, and congealing into a terrible plan. He couldn't believe what he was considering– couldn't believe he was actually thinking seriously about taking a man's life. The inclination both terrified and exhilarated him.

He should have done this ages ago, as soon as he learned of the saiyajin's talents with ki. Kakarot had distracted him so much from his ultimate goal of retrieving Buruma.

When he first heard of the shady pet shop, he had felt strangely drawn there, true, but he had visited on the pretense of buying some sort of large, savage cat. The cat would have been for show, to impress others, and kept only as a power fantasy– the fantasy of keeping a killing machine under his control. Like many jilted lovers, he had daydreamed hungrily of the many painful ways he could destroy the man who had replaced him. He never dreamed he would have the will or the means to bring that mad, half-cocked imagining to life.

With the saiyajin he had the perfect means to accomplish his ends. Buruma would see that he meant business, and never dare to cross him again.

Vegeta arrived at the mansion and rushed up to his study, shutting and locking the door behind him as if in hopes to shut out his burgeoning bloodlust and the emotional hurricane he'd been put through as of late. He slid down to the floor with his back propped against the door and tried to even his breathing, and gather his thoughts.

Long minutes of anxious quiet passed before he rose, retrieved a manila folder from deep within his file cabinets, then returned to his place on the floor. He opened the folder and strewed its contents across his outspread legs and across the carpet. All the information he could possibly need lay before him: the man's picture, place of work, car, apartment, times for when he usually left work, and the gym he and Buruma frequented. Months ago, when he'd found out who Buruma was dating, he'd researched him almost to the point of stalking, out of pure angry curiosity and the belief that he must know his enemy.

He stared at the documents, determining that the best time to act would be tonight, then paused to deliberate. Would this really set everything right? He had done many terrible things, but this was murder. Even he had never stooped to something so base. Kakarot for some reason thought him a good person, and Vegeta had enjoyed hearing such from him. Could he destroy even that illusion, so that every last person in the world would know of his corruption?

I'm trying to get _away _from Kakarot, not please him! Vegeta argued. He had to find out sooner or later that I'm just a bad egg. I will do it because I can, and because it needs to be done.

It's not so simple as erasing one side of a love triangle, his conscience lamented. You can't erase Kakarot's love for you, the fourth side.

That's fine, he argued back, he loves me so he'll do as I ask. He'd do anything for me, to keep me happy.

And would you be so quick to take advantage of him?

Vegeta ground his teeth in silence for several minutes as the images of tenderness and camaraderie between them came back to him. Finally he slapped himself hard across the face. No more ridiculous sentimentalities; no more playing around! He had to be strong. That thing was an animal– just an animal– and meant to be used. His desires for the creature would pass as soon as Buruma returned. They were a damaging perversion; if he wanted his life back, they had to be stamped out.

No matter how good they felt.

He needed Buruma, needed her to restore stability in his life and to shield him from the desires he felt toward Kakarot.

Without her, he knew he just might give in to the saiyajin. The effort it took to resist exhausted him.

Vegeta wanted the dry, predictable order of before. He had experienced a taste of love for the first time, for he knew that was indeed what had been growing between himself and Kakarot, and found it dangerous and frightening. He feared losing himself in the vulnerability of emotions.

His resolve wavered again. Did Buruma truly deserve this? Years she had stood by him, uncomplaining, for the most part, and been a good wife. Now she seemed to have found what she'd been looking for in this other man. Damn her for finding happiness when he felt so miserable and confused.

He let his head fall back against the door with a thud, and ran a hand through his hair in indecision.

What you're considering is horrible, his conscience told him. You stand on the edge of a precipice, a hair's breadth away from corruption of the soul. Once you fall, who will be there to catch you? You are one step away from becoming a monster.

Maybe he should just let Buruma go and be happy, and try to find another way to cope.

Unfortunately both his ego and his insecurities chose that moment to step to the forefront, materializing in his mind's eye as the one he both hated and still desperately sought approval from. His father.

The harsh, demanding voice reproached him, criticizing him as usual, mocking and ridiculing him for his hesitation.

Look at you. You really have become a sentimental little fool. How many times do I have to tell you that an Oujisama takes what he wants, and to hell with those who stand in our way?

What the hell kind of son have I got? I always knew you were weak, little man. You can't even control your emotions, and your perversions are taking you over. Absolutely pathetic.

Did you think I would tolerate having a fag for a son? What a disgrace to our family; you disappoint me at every turn! Go on, give in to the beast. Will you attend cocktail parties with your oversized pet on your arm, and introduce him as your lover, the missing link? What a joke! I will disown you for the shame of learning I have a simpering, ineffectual, impotent fag for a son!

Prove yourself to me. Remember the sweet kiss of power. Be a man and take what you want, and make things right!

Vegeta's heart slid into the abyss.

"I will, Father."

His face hardened with renewed determination. To hell with everybody. To hell with Kakarot, Buruma, and her man. His mind had set. He would do this without regret, and enjoy it.

His father was right; this was just what he needed. The momentous weight of risk thrilled him, and it felt so good to concern himself with something other than the battle with his traitorous body. He felt invigorated with single-minded purpose, to know that he was finally taking action for a solution to his problems.

Freed from moral restraints, he set to work.

Hours later he paced slowly down to the greenhouse and quietly opened the door. Kakarot still slept on the ground right where Vegeta had left him, looking utterly dejected.

Upon seeing the big saiyajin the pangs of desire that struck him once more only served to strengthen his resolve, and convince him this course of action was necessary.

"Kakarot."

The saiyajin jumped in startlement and hopped to his feet. He stood and swayed for a moment, dizzy from waking and changing position so suddenly, and tried to focus.

It was already late in the afternoon, but Vegeta never came this early for him. Once his mind cleared, he tried to further apologize for his impetuousness the night before. Kakarot assumed he would still be angry about the unsolicited kiss, but Vegeta seemed quite pleased with himself, strangely calm and self-possessed.

:: Vegeta, I– ::

Vegeta waved a hand to silence him. "Listen to me for a moment. You know, Kakarot, I've been doing some thinking, and I think it's high time you make yourself useful around here. All you've been doing is fawning over me and eating all my food. I've got a little job for you. Would you like to do something for me?"

Kakarot nodded eagerly.

"Wonderful. Now, you know Buruma, the woman you don't like?" he asked, fishing for a paper in the manila envelope he'd brought.

:: Yes. ::

Vegeta held out a computer print of a state-issued photo. "See this man? Remember his face. He's a friend of hers, and he's been causing me nothing but trouble."

:: This man threatens you, Vegeta? :: he asked, an edge of panicky concern tinging his voice.

"Yes, he's quite a threat to me. I would like for you to get rid of him."

:: You mean, to kill him? ::

"That's right. Can you do this for me?"

Kakarot frowned and cocked his head, studying the photo. :: Yes, easily. But... most humans object to killing their own kind. Are you sure it's necessary? Is he dangerous? ::

"He's stolen from me, and he threatens me. I would be so happy and feel _so _much safer if you were to take care of him for me. No one else will. And you want to make me happy, don't you?"

:: Of course, Vegeta! ::

"Very good. Now, you think you can identify him?"

:: I think perhaps I already know his scent. Would it have been on the Buruma woman when she came? ::

"Scent... you can distinguish people's scents? Yes, if there were other people's scents on Buruma, his would have been the strongest."

:: I can detect scents that have been there recently... just like I know you've been with _her _today.::

Vegeta faltered for only a moment, then smirked, deciding that the element of competition could work well for him. "So do a good job, then, if you want to return to my favor."

:: Yes, Vegeta! ::

"That's what I want to hear. Now pay attention. I want you to do exactly as I say."

---

Yamcha cradled his sore jaw. Two weeks without any incidents whatsoever, and then on the same day two prisoners panic and try to escape after their sentencing. The second had given him a backwards headbutt in the face. Ugh, all the crazies come out on a full moon.

Yamcha told himself that he'd endured his share of misfortune for the day, so now he could relax and enjoy the rest of the evening with his beautiful girlfriend. He needed to clean up and change clothes, then they could meet for a late dinner. Hopefully she had calmed down by now. At the gym she had been nearly frantic, telling him over and over to be careful and watch out for anything out of the ordinary.

He maneuvered his car into a space, and set the alarm. His apartment building had no parking lot, which forced residents to scrounge for spaces on the street, and tonight he had to park more than three blocks away.

Not thirty steps toward his destination he knew he was being followed. A faint tapping on the pavement, a slight rustle of leaves, and an unnatural rush of wind betrayed his traveling companion. The noises, all so imperceptible that they were felt more than detected by the senses, would have gone unnoticed had he been absorbed in thought.

The sidewalk was shady, lined with thick hedges and trees on one side and the street with its line of parked cars on the other. The foliage made for beautiful landscaping, but in the dark twilight it also made a perfect cover for any criminal who wished to jump a pedestrian.

The noises, which lasted so briefly in stops and starts, had ceased completely now. He came to a halt and peered over his shoulder. Nothing.

Few people were out on the street that night. A couple strolled away from him on the other side of the street, engrossed in their own conversation. Far down the path, a man he'd passed earlier still walked in the opposite direction. Nothing could be heard but a siren in the distance, and the faint drone of cars on the main streets. He resumed walking homeward, thinking perhaps he had only imagined the noises.

Rustle. Swish! Tap-tap.

No, someone was definitely there.

The intermingling sounds finally ended with a lone rustling noise. Silence again.

Tap– Vvvmm– Rustle.

The hairs raised on the back of his neck as a nervous knot began to form in his stomach. He had been followed before– rarely, but it happened. Most often convicted prisoners and their families blamed the judge, but if they couldn't reach the judge sometimes they tried to take out their frustrations on others involved in the proceedings, such as the bailiff who took them away. Once four friends of a convicted gang member had followed him, shouting obscenities and throwing beer cans. They had been all talk.

This situation was different, and the follower strange. A mugger, possibly, but they worked by ambush, grab, and dash. A mugger should have jumped him by now. Buruma's warning came to mind. He knew it could be a thug sent by her ex, but what type of thug operated this way?

He paused and turned again, only to be met with the sounds of the city, and an empty street. He meticulously scanned the area behind him and found nothing out of the ordinary.

A car turned from the street far ahead and drove toward him, its headlights blinding Yamcha and illuminating the darkness in its path.

Great, he thought, I'll be able to see better. The car lit up the sidewalk, bleaching the bushes and trees, but not penetrating past their exterior. Nothing. Only the sound of rolling wheels on asphalt, the dwindling hum of the retreating car's engine. He walked backwards a few steps, so he could still observe the way he'd come, then reluctantly turned to continue on his way...

_Rustle_.

And immediately turned back, just in time to catch a glimpse of leaves quivering in the tree he'd passed, as though something had recently disturbed them. No way a hood could just leap into a tree like a cat!

Then perhaps it could actually be an animal. What large animals could climb trees... a cat... a monkey... or some strange escaped zoo animal? Did it follow him because it thought he had food? Yamcha squinted up into the branches but the frustrating darkness yielded none of its secrets. He felt as though a ghost was tailing him. Dammit, what was going on?

He began walking again, and crossed his arms over his chest, one hand inside his jacket to rest discreetly upon the handle of his gun. Thank god he had it with him tonight. Sweat broke on his forehead and the knot in his stomach twisted as the sounds began again.

Tap– vssh– tap– vvvmm– tap– vsh– tap– _VVSSH_!

Yamcha gasped as a gust of wind grazed the back of his neck, as if his pursuer had come within inches of him and pulled back. He wheeled around as quickly as possible, face tight with anger and rising anxiety, and almost saw it: for a split second he saw a blur rippling the air like heat waves on a hot summer's day. It was hiding somewhere in that tree, he knew it. He had the impression that somehow it moved too fast for the naked eye to detect, like a hummingbird's wing in flight– the wing was there, yet could not be seen. How could anything move its entire body so fast?

He walked faster, heart rate and breathing speeding up until he saw with relief that he was almost home. There was his apartment building. Only a hundred more feet to the front door...

WHAM!

Struck suddenly by a tremendous invisible force,Yamcha felt himself fly through the air and landed hard, knocking all the wind out of him.

He reeled as stars sparkled across his vision, and choked soundlessly for moments before finally drawing in a rattling breath. Whatever it was had knocked him off the sidewalk into the very shady, very secluded courtyard behind his apartment complex. No, correction– he had been thrown over the six foot gate of the courtyard, which was locked every evening at twilight.

He remembered that he was not alone. Yamcha scrambled to his feet and drew his gun, looking wildly in every direction, and moved to stand under the decorative antique street lamp that illuminated the center of the garden courtyard.

Something... something... there has to be something... there!

Between the tallest bushes, near the ground, shone the yellow glint of eyeshine.

Yamcha stared at the golden disks. Human eyes could not shine like that, and yet it seemed to move with intelligence and purpose. He couldn't just shoot into the darkness, since there was still a chance it could be human, or maybe an animal that thought it was just playing with him.

He tried to steady his voice. "Come out! I see you there; I know you're there. Come on. If... if you're a person, I've got a gun, so come out slowly. Why the hell are you following me?"

Long moments of silence passed as Yamcha continued to stand rigidly, facing down the eyes that never looked away, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. The only movement came from the moths dancing about the street lamp.

Finally the luminous disks rose slowly, until they hung high in the air like twin fireflies. A figure moved out of the blackness.

It is a man! No...

The figure stepped forward into the dim light just enough for Yamcha to discern a huge, powerful form, covered with a reddish pelt and shock of dark hair. A long tail made leisurely coils through the air behind him.

Yamcha's mind momentarily went blank, at a loss for understanding.

"A... A werewolf is after me? He doesn't look like... This makes no sense. Is this a... is this some sort of... prank?" Yamcha whispered to himself.

The creature stared back, motionless except for his tail.

"What do you want?"

No answer.

"I said, what do you want?"

The creature only tossed his head and looked down his nose at him.

"Th-that's some costume you have, pal. That's Hollywood-professional quality," he laughed weakly, trying to convince himself though gut instinct told him that was no costume.

"Listen, this is a gun, you understand? A weapon. They can kill people. You try to come at me again and I'll shoot you. So just stay right there." He dreaded leaving the circle of light, but knew he couldn't stand there indefinitely. He thought of calling for help, but that might only bring more people into harm's way. And the back door was only feet away... He fiddled in his pocket for his keys, and began to back away toward the rear door of the building.

The creature shifted, and his tail began to lash. Those eyes narrowed intently like a hunter centering his prey in the crosshairs.

"Hey! I said don't move!"

The creature hunched its shoulders, leaned forward, and took a step, and Yamcha could sense he was building the momentum for a strike.

"I _said_–"

The creature vanished.

BLAM!

In a split second Yamcha felt a hand take hold of him tightly, and fly him back to the darkness of the trees. The creature held him suspended by the neck in front of him, glaring unflinchingly up into his face as he squirmed helplessly and clawed at the hand, struggling to draw breath. The gun lay discarded in the bushes, knocked out of his grip from the force of Kakarot slamming into him.

Kakarot held up his other hand, palm wide and fingers pressed tightly together, as it hissed with the charge of ki. Yamcha's eyes grew wide with horror as an unfamiliar voice sounded inside his head.

:: You offend my chosen one. I give you five seconds to make your peace with God. ::

Yamcha did exactly that.

Three clean strikes and the deed was done. Kakarot dropped his unpleasant handiwork, and gave a funereal blessing and small bow of respect.

:: Be at peace. ::

He then leapt to the protruding roots of one of the larger trees and crouched down, hands splayed against the ground, and sent a searing wave of ki across the entire courtyard, bubbling the soil and sweeping over the ground, over the body, snaking up the trees and bursting the bulb in the lamp.

Alarmed voices were heard, as well as closing doors and pattering footsteps. Kakarot reformed the shield of ki around his body, and just before the first people arrived on the scene to investigate the gunshot, he vanished into the night.

---

Buruma drove toward Yamcha's apartment with her heart full of fear. He hadn't shown up for their dinner date, hadn't called, didn't answer his phone. Maybe it was a family emergency, she thought, maybe he's helping a friend, maybe, maybe...

All hope was abandoned when she saw the first flash of an emergency light. Buruma left her car in the middle of the street and dashed toward the lights. A knot of over a dozen police and emergency vehicles came into view, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. She shoved through the people and attempted to break through the yellow police tape, but an officer caught her by the shoulders.

"Whoa! Ma'am, we need you to stay behind the line. No unauthorized civilians allowed in a crime scene."

"What happened?! I have to know!"

"There's been a death, ma'am. We're looking into it. Right now I need you behind the line."

"Who is it!?"

"I'm sorry, we can't release that just yet, we need to notify the family–"

"Was his name Yamcha Rengetsu?"

The officer blinked at her, then looked over to another officer who'd overheard. He gave the first man a nod. "That's... that's the name on the victim's driver's license."

"NOOOoo! Oh god, no no NO... oh Jesus, no... Yamcha..." Buruma collapsed to her knees, hands clasped tightly over her mouth as her face crumpled. The officer hailed several other policemen and knelt down with her, offering her a Kleenex and laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she continued to sob.

They led her to a quiet area to question her once she had calmed down enough to speak.

A tall, plainclothes officer with sandy hair pulled back into a short ponytail took in the scene as he passed by, then approached the lead investigator and displayed his badge.

"Officer Orcot. I just got here. What's the story so far?"

"Well, it's one of the strangest cases I've ever seen; it's like the damn X-Files in here. No one witnessed any of it, and so far we haven't found a trace of useful evidence, no fingerprints, footprints, hairs, fibers– nada. We've got a woman who says she saw the victim walking home– said he seemed on edge– but that's it. The body's been carved up into sections, but the cuts weren't made by any typical knife or blade, and one strike looks almost as though it was made by claws, or fingers, so there's the possibility of animal attack, though we've got no idea what animal could have done it."

Orcot frowned. "Animal attack..."

"The problem is none of the nearby zoos are missing any large or potentially dangerous animals, and there've been no reports of loose exotics roaming the city. We're pretty convinced it was an attack, if not a murder, because of the gunshot, but we also can't rule out the possibility of some sort of localized freak electrical disaster– see the broken light? The entire area has been– burned isn't quite the right word– more like singed by a strange electrical force. The grass is stiff, almost crispy, and the air smells like ozone."

"I can tell you right now that this was no accident."

Both men turned to look at Buruma. She had stilled into a zombie-like stupor, but had listened in on their conversation.

"This was a murder. A cold-blooded murder. And I can tell you exactly who did it."

---

A/N I hope this chapter was okay– I was throwing fits over it for the longest time, and I still don't think it's one of my best ones. The final chapter should be up soon; I have the rough draft done and I just need to edit!

Chapter 10: Faced with the aftermath of an unconscionable crime, will Vegeta meet his end, or a new beginning?


	10. Dégager

Dégager: The Saiyajin Pet

By Orchideater

AU, Gk x Vg

Rated R for some explicit sexuality

DBZ and all DBZ characters property of Akira Toriyama and official licensees

A/N (deep breath) Okay, this is it! I hope you enjoy the ending.

---

Chapter 10: Dégager

In the dining hall of his mansion, Vegeta entertained dinner guests, as he'd done for the past four hours, and endured an excruciating wait. He pretended to listen to the conversation, pretended to be interested, and gave noncommittal answers and comments, but his mind was preoccupied with the events supposedly occurring across town.

Had he done it? Had he arrived back? Had everything gone as planned? Every nerve buzzed with excitement, with the thrill of taking this terrible chance. Though his outward appearance betrayed nothing, anxious, nervous energy weighed down every cell. Vegeta relished it, though. Playing dangerous war games to get what he wanted always set fire to his blood.

Don't let me down, Kakarot...

Finally, as guests sipped their after-dinner drinks and servants removed empty dessert plates, one of the maids entered and approached him, distressed. She bent down and whispered in his ear, "Sir, the police are here. They say they want to ask you some questions."

Vegeta turned toward the direction she indicated and could see several officers waiting at the door of the dining room. A ball of passion shot down his spine.

He did it. He actually did it! The saiyajin killed for me...

It took all of Vegeta's willpower to prevent a ferocious grin from overtaking his face. He graciously excused himself and joined the investigators out in the hallway.

The man in charge greeted him. "Mr. Oujisama, we're sorry to interrupt your evening plans, but we'd–"

"You bastard! Killer! Monster!" Buruma burst to the front and tried to fight her way to Vegeta, but an officer held her back. As he expected, she placed the blame squarely upon him.

Go ahead my dear, it's your word against mine, he thought, casting her a supremely indifferent look.

"What the hell are you going on about, woman? What's this all about?"

"Ms. Briefs' lover was killed this evening under strange circumstances, and she seems convinced that you had something to do with it. Can you spare us a few minutes to answer our questions?"

"Of course, let's go to the drawing room."

Vegeta answered every query calmly, rationally, and with ease, feeling like a student who had studied hard and now had the satisfaction of acing the test. He had an airtight alibi, and twenty witnesses to confirm that he had been at home during the time of the death.

"These claims are outrageous. Search my entire house if you like, question my staff. My wife is completely paranoid, to the point where I've begun to wonder if she's been taking drugs. I refuse to give her a divorce because I still have hopes of repairing our relationship, and so out of frustration she blames me for everything going wrong in her life."

"You argued the morning of the murder?"

"Yes, bitterly, but I made none of the death threats of which she's accusing me. We argued about our relationship, nothing more."

The dinner guests were questioned and dismissed, as well as several of the servants. Vegeta guided the troop of officers from room to room, allowing them to perform a formal search and do whatever else they found necessary.

Hours later, as the last room was searched, the lead investigator wearily made one final request. "May we check the greenhouse sir? One of the killing slashes has identifying marks that could possibly indicate an animal attack."

"Yes, he's been keeping something in there!" Buruma cut in. "I could feel it. I could feel its eyes on me when I was there last month!"

Vegeta gave her a frown of concern. "My god, now you're hallucinating. I really wish you'd see a professional about these delusions; I'm worried about you."

An officer swiftly stepped in to prevent Buruma from flying into a screaming rage, and the group then marched down to the greenhouse. Vegeta went in first and held the door open for them, speaking loudly.

"As you can see, the only animals in here are birds, butterflies, and insects. What else does one keep in a greenhouse, anyway?"

As the officers fanned out, the head investigator almost stumbled over a wild-haired young man sitting on the floor against the wall, with legs drawn up and arms around his knees. He looked at the inspector blankly.

"Who's this?"

"Oh, that's just my greenhouse keeper, Kakarot." Vegeta walked over and placed a hand on his head as Kakarot shrank behind him to escape the stranger's gaze. "He's mute and very shy, very nervous around people. He likes to sleep here alone." Vegeta explained to them the rest of the story he had concocted to explain Kakarot's human origin.

"If Buruma heard or felt anything in here that day, it was Kakarot hiding from her, not some imaginary killer animal."

The lead investigator scrutinized him. The man seemed timid, almost fearful of all the activity and the presence of strangers. The huge oversized T-shirt effectively downplayed his build and made him seem almost childish, as did the smooth face and rumpled hair. Those limpid, doe-like eyes held nothing to fear.

"I'm assuming he's not an illegal alien or a runaway. You have the papers to prove it?"

"Certainly. I have the papers in my desk drawer, if you'd like to see them." The fake papers he'd had made up weeks ago, that is.

"No, that's not necessary." The inspector then turned his attention away and focused fully on the rest of the surroundings.

Buruma stared at Kakarot and their eyes met. Could it really have just been him, that day? Maybe she had overreacted. She had felt so sure of danger, though, and those golden eyes in the shadows...

She turned away, still suspicious, though doubts had begun to creep in. As soon as no one was watching Kakarot's timid look instantly became a death glare piercing her back.

Vegeta placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled down at him in a fatherly manner. "So, how has your evening been? Going well?" he asked.

Kakarot nodded slowly, and sent him the answer he really wanted to hear. :: I did all that you asked, Vegeta. The hunt went well; he was not a bad opponent, for a human. I was not seen, I razed the area and shielded myself so not a trace of my presence was left, and I came back here and waited for you like this. Th-this is what you wanted, right, Vegeta? Did I do all right? ::

Vegeta smiled cheerily and patted his shoulder. "That's good."

He then left Kakarot's side and strolled after the roaming officers. The sandy-haired officer caught up with him, and asked if he could have a few words.

"Just out of curiosity, sir, did you ever buy anything from a man called Count D?"

Vegeta lost his composure for only a moment. "Actually, yes, around two months ago."

"You did? What was it?"

"Several tropical birds. Quite a beautiful addition to the greenhouse."

"Could I see these birds?"

Vegeta clapped his hands noisily and the already agitated birds flew up and circled the ceiling.

"Those five over... there are what I bought," he said, pointing. "Is there a problem?"

"Err..." Orcot stared at the birds and tried to find anything unusual about them besides their bright colors. "Have they given you any sort of trouble? Did Count D give you any sort of list of dos and don'ts for them?"

"He gave me instructions on their care and feeding, and other than the droppings they give me no trouble at all. Just what are you getting at?" he responded stiffly, glaring.

Orcot opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by another officer.

"Ha ha! Better watch out, Orcot, or one of those birds will swoop down and slice you in half! Sorry sir, Orcot thinks Count D is to blame for every weird death we get around here."

"Shut up, smartass! You'll be apologizing to me one day."

The other officer continued snickering, and Orcot stomped off, leaving Vegeta a bit rankled but still undaunted.

Finally the police finished their search, and had nothing left to ask him anymore. The lead investigator thanked him for his cooperation and tolerance and said they would be in touch if there were any new developments.

"You're not going to do anything?!" Buruma wailed.

"Well, the love triangle aspect of your relationship gives him a motive, but we don't have a shred of hard evidence to link Mr. Oujisama to the crime, only your accusation. Frankly we've got nothing at all, only a bizarre modus operandi and strange natural phenomena that we don't know how to explain."

"Aren't you at least going to take him to the station?!"

The lead investigator dropped his voice and stepped closer to speak privately to her. "As you already know, Oujisama is a very powerful man. There's only so much we can do in these cases, and he's cooperated fully with us. He'll be kept under suspicion and unable to leave the country for a time, but that's all we can do. We can't jail and convict someone based on women's intuition. I'm sorry, ma'am. All we can hope is for forensics to give us a lead, or a witness to come forward."

Buruma wilted in despair.

Vegeta ushered the police out when they were finished and pulled her aside as they walked up the grassy hill to the cars.

"I'm very sorry for the pain you must be feeling right now. He shouldn't have been walking in such a dangerous area at night."

Buruma stared straight ahead, her eyes dead. "The last thing I want to hear is your phoney sympathy, you heartless monster. We both know it was you."

"Ridiculous. I've been here the whole night."

"Because you'd never get your own hands dirty. I don't know how you managed this, but I know it was you."

"I prefer to think of it as fate telling you to come back to me. If you continue to defy fate, who knows what else might happen?"

"How can you possibly think I could love you after what you've done?"

"I don't. I've given up such soft emotions." He jerked her close and sneered in her ear. "I have a new philosophy: 'It is better to be feared than loved.' You're an intelligent woman. I assume you'll be home by the end of this week."

Buruma covered her face with her hands, and fell silent for long moments before rasping a tiny reply: "I'll think about it." She pulled away from him and walked quickly to the squad car she'd come in, and took refuge in the backseat.

Vegeta smoothly said his goodbyes to the police force and watched from the front doorway until every squad car had wound its way down the long driveway and disappeared, and he was left alone under the stars.

A cold, stimulating wave of twisted satisfaction wriggled through his insides. He– had– done it. He had actually gotten away with murder. The police were fools groping in the dark– they had nothing on him, nothing, and didn't even have the slightest idea of what really happened. He knew they suspected him, especially that hothead Orcot, but without evidence they couldn't touch a hair on his head.

He felt invincible, all-powerful, as if he could do anything. Nothing stood in his way. He could crush enemies and forge paths by fear alone, and no one would dare cross him again.

He had fallen astray for a few months, and had opened himself to base and traitorous feelings that weakened him in both spirit and mind. Now, with this act of bloodshed, he remembered everything that had almost been pushed aside– his priorities, and his identity. He became reacquainted with his first love, that nasty and fickle but dangerously intoxicating little demon named Power.

Power was all. Everyone sought it, grabbing for what little pieces they could find. But he, Vegeta Oujisama, had the power of a king. He gloried in the feeling sweeping through his being, that feeling of unbridled, uninhibited authority. It was all he needed. Who needed love when you could have power? Power brought wealth, and wealth could buy you all the love you needed. In power was control, and in control, security.

Love and concern for others only weakened one. The fragile, budding love for Kakarot had made him an unstable, emasculated mess, but intimidation and control made him strong.

Any fear he still held for the saiyajin evaporated. Kakarot was truly under his control; he would do anything for his master, even kill.

Vegeta held his sides, tilting his head up to the heavens, grinning ecstatically. He wanted to break into wild laughter. What could compare? What could compare to this glorious feeling?

He almost skipped down the hill to the greenhouse and flung the door open with a loud bang, full of blood and thunder.

"Kakarot! Did you see that? Did you SEE that?! The police are gone. They have nothing on me, I mean nothing!"

As soon as he saw Vegeta was alone, Kakarot instantly whipped the shirt off over his head and returned to his more animalistic form. Vegeta strode up and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him back and forth.

"Brilliant! You brilliant beast! I knew you could do it, could do on the first time what a seasoned veteran couldn't. Ha-ha!"

He gave him a sharp, excited slap on the cheek that made Kakarot jump in surprise, then began pacing wildly to make use of his manic energy. Kakarot watched in shock, partly amused by his friend's behavior.

"Oh god... They have _no _idea... We put one over on the police, we actually got away with MURDER... It was so perfect. Oh god, I wish I could have seen pretty boy's face."

:: You are pleased, then? ::

"Pleased? Oh lord, Kakarot, I'm more than pleased, I– God, I feel like– God! I don't think I've ever felt so high. It's unbelievable. Just beautiful. Ha ha ha!"

:: V... Vegeta. :: Kakarot tried to hold his attention as he paced almost frantically, circling him like a deranged shark. :: Am I forgiven for... you know... ::

"Huh? Oh yes, yes, that's all done. But I don't want you trying anything like that ever again, you understand? I'm through with all that silliness, and if you want us to remain friends you'd better get that through your skull."

:: Um... But... I know the timing was wrong... But... But... ::

"You know, one of those cops seemed to know your old master," Vegeta said, not listening. "That crazy shopkeeper must make a habit of selling bizarre and dangerous creatures that no one else can find; I wonder what else I could buy from him?"

:: Um... V-Vegeta... ::

Vegeta's thoughts darted back to what the officer had asked him. _Did Count D give you any sort of list of dos and don'ts? _

What was that list of rules the shopkeeper had given him about Kakarot, again? How to feed him, house him, exercise him... and that strange rule about keeping covered in his presence. Vegeta suddenly felt ridiculous, standing there in his high-collared, long-sleeved, button-down black shirt and black leather pants. All those people here tonight– in Kakarot's territory no less– with collars open and sleeves rolled up, and Kakarot only sat quietly in the corner watching. The partygoers, the maid, Buruma– he had been around all these people who had bare arms, necks, shoulders, legs, and he had not acted viciously.

Damn that mincing little shit, he'd been jerking him around the whole time and made a joke of him! Vegeta had been nervous around the creature at first and followed that rule carefully, but then it became such a force of habit that he barely thought about the why of it anymore.

He would not be a fool for anyone, anymore.

Vegeta stopped twenty feet away and faced off against the saiyajin, staring him down, his stance tall and firm. His face took on a sneer of supreme arrogance.

"You would do anything for me, wouldn't you, Kakarot?"

The saiyajin nodded solemnly.

"Such a good beast. Hah! You know what?" he taunted. "I'm not afraid of you anymore. Not afraid of anything."

Kakarot's eyes widened in disbelief as Vegeta began pulling at the buttons of his collar. "You want to bite me? Go right ahead. I can take it!"

In one brisk motion he tore the shirt open wide, baring the whole of his torso.

"Come on! Take your pound of flesh, you great gorgeous bastard! Ha ha ha!"

Vegeta didn't see him leap– didn't see his face contort in a rictus of savage glee– only felt the saiyajin slam into him, take him to the ground, and sink his sharp canines deep into the soft flesh of his neck.

The world stopped. Vegeta felt silence buzz in his ears as Kakarot held him deathly tight, his teeth locked in place, their unmoving figures portraying a twisted pietà. Kakarot ripped the shirt in two and pulled the remnants from him.

"Ahh... ah-ahhh... ah!" Vegeta moaned in pain as the teeth pressed in farther, relaxed slightly, then pressed in again. A thin stream of blood trickled down, staining the ground scarlet.

He never believed he'd do it. Never thought in a million years that he would actually do it. He'd meant only to flash the saiyajin for a brief second, to tease him, then they would have laughed and had a victory dinner. Yet amidst the confusion and pain, he felt a wash of relieved fulfillment eclipsing the sense of betrayal. Why did this feel so right? Ahhhh...

"Kkkghh... Kakarot... Why... why are you... AHHH!"

The pain increased a hundredfold. Kakarot clutched the back of his head, supported his back with a tightly coiled arm, and wound his tail around Vegeta's waist to steady him.

White fire raced through his veins, accompanied by a hellish pain that filled every fiber, every cell, gnashing down his spine and spreading outwards to even his fingertips and toes. He recognized that agonizing fire as Kakarot's ki, the energy that had felt so warm and gentle when it fell down like rain.

Kakarot was tearing him apart from the inside. That bright power took hold of his limbs and filled them, prodding and molding from within; stretched his bones and spine till he feared they would be pulled out; shredded and reformed the very building blocks of his life. His skin burned and crawled as from a hundred thousand tiny, swarming spiders' feet.

"Hrrrr..."

Kakarot loosened his jaws slightly, releasing a rattling growl, then clamped down harder than ever in fervor, making Vegeta jerk and gasp. A blazing halo of power erupted around them both, sending a rolling shockwave outward that shattered every pane of glass in the greenhouse with explosive force. The clamoring birds flew out into the night sky, never to return.

The nimbus of power arced upwards and away from Kakarot, plummeting downward into Vegeta's body.

Vegeta felt death reaching for him. How much more pain could he bear?

As quickly as it had come, the pain stilled and dissipated, leaving behind a pleasant calm. The storm was over. He could only hear his own labored breathing, and the pounding of his heart. Returning senses seemed sharper, and scents more acute.

He felt his spirit calm and strengthen, solidifying into a new state of mind, a new consciousness.

The mansion, his riches, and his name, all that he had once considered of consummate importance, meant nothing to him now. He no longer had need for status and place, or materialistic egoism to mask insecurity and vulnerability. All such frivolous needs and wants bled out of his being till they seemed only the foolish, ghostlike memories of an ill-spent childhood. He could see everything so clearly now.

He had been a fool.

The jungle beckoned him, overpowering all the feeble posturing of Man. Aligned with its call, with the bond of a mate who loved him in the deepest sharing he'd ever known, he felt at peace.

Kakarot slowly released his neck, and pulled back. Vegeta reached up with a shaky hand to touch the torn flesh, and felt only saliva– the wound had closed already. He cracked his eyes open and saw Kakarot gazing down at him in reverence, smiling broadly.

:: Vegeta... My Chosen. You are so beautiful... even more now than before. ::

Vegeta caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the saiyajin's shining eyes– saw with disbelief a figure with long, shagged hair and a red pelt...

Kakarot stroked Vegeta's face, thumbed his lips gently as wide green eyes stared up in shock.

:: I... Uh...? ::

Kakarot suddenly drew close till their noses touched, and Vegeta blushed. :: You have some strange courtship rituals, my friend, but you were worth the wait. ::

He claimed Vegeta's lips in a hard-earned kiss of celebration, savoring the sweet taste of his new mate, the other half of his heart. Vegeta's new tail reflexively twined with his.

He pulled Vegeta up with him to his feet and Vegeta wobbled, unused to the larger body and five extra inches of height.

:: Come on, Vegeta! It's time for us to go. ::

:: Where are we going? ::

Kakarot turned and flashed him a knowing grin. :: Home.::

Vegeta returned the smile, unsure of their future but bolstered by an unwavering trust. Hand in hand they stepped out of the ruined greenhouse and ran toward the forest, disappearing into the misty darkness.

---

Epilogue

A beautiful morning graced Chinatown, fresh with the promise of summer. The admirable weather did nothing to improve the mood of Officer Orcot, however, as he trudged up to the unassuming storefront and descended the stairs into the welcome shade of the pet shop's foyer. Count D greeted him coolly.

"Ah, detective, it's you again."

"Yeah, it's me. I want to ask you some questions."

"I'm terribly sorry, but I simply don't have the time to entertain you today. Several of my animals are sick, Honlon is cranky, not to mention I've been feeling a bit peaked myself lately–"

Orcot grudgingly held out his goodwill offering.

"Aiieee! Neuhaus Masterpiece Collection chocolates! Come in, I'll tell you whatever you want!" D drug him inside the den with surprising strength and immediately dashed off to set out his teatime paraphernalia.

Orcot had to smile. He could always depend on the Count's weakness for sweets to get him the information he wanted. D preferred for them both to be properly seated and served before a discussion, so he waited impatiently until the Count began to pour the tea.

"This time I've got a murder and a disappearance, as if one wasn't bad enough," he began. "A corporate fat cat named Vegeta Oujisama disappeared two days ago, on the same day he was connected in suspicion to a crazy murder that's got forensics baffled. Yamcha Rengetsu was the victim, a bailiff. I didn't know him, but he attended the same police academy as me, so that makes this personal. We cops get very pissed off when one of our own goes down. Not to mention that we've got Oujisama's raging father on our asses demanding we find him– he thinks the police are supposed to drop everything else and put every man out looking for his son." Orcot paused briefly to pull out his pack of cigarettes and shoot a glare at the Count.

"I questioned the son himself that night and guess what? He was a customer of yours– said he bought birds. What the hell did you sell him, a werechicken?"

"Ah, yes, the very difficult and very rude Mr. Oujisama." The Count smiled fondly at the memory. "Heh. It certainly took them long enough; he must have been quite resistant. I did sell him some birds, but our main contract was for a saiyajin. That is the creature that killed the hapless Mr. Rengetsu."

"A what?"

D pulled out a leatherbound sketchbook and flipped to a marked page displaying a fanciful drawing of Kakarot, done in the stylized fashion of classical Far Eastern art.

"Quite good, don't you think?" he said, handing the book to Orcot. "I was completely unfamiliar with the species before he came to me, so I made my own notes and reference drawings about him."

"What the hell is this, a yeti?"

"Oh my, no. Yetis live in the mountains and are quite smelly, dull, and antisocial. He is a saiyajin, one of only a handful left of his kind. His name is Kakarot."

"Kakarot? That was the name of that quiet guy in the greenhouse!" Orcot jumped up in excitement. "The greenhouse keeper did it! I have to go find him and arrest him–"

"Sit down, detective, Kakarot is long gone. I estimate they are already close to a hundred miles on their way to the southern jungles by now."

"What? What are you saying, is Vegeta Oujisama, Jr. still alive?"

"Of course. They are traveling together. Kakarot has taken him as mate, and they now share an eternal bond of spirit and flesh."

"Mates?! But... but they're two guys!"

Count D cast him a look of long-suffering annoyance and sighed. "You are terribly small-minded as usual, detective. You have been entrenched in your own beliefs for so long you forget the alternatives. Many cultures consider same sex love the norm. If you'd open your eyes you'd find that the inclination is... more common than you might think." The count batted his eyelashes at Orcot and sipped his tea coyly.

Red splotches covered Orcot's cheeks. "Ugh... O-Okay... So they ran off together. But... but come on, you're not telling me the whole story here! How did this happen? What... And the murder... That thing is dangerous!"

"You need not worry. Kakarot and his partner will never return to our world." The Count settled in to tell his tale.

"Kakarot had reached full maturity for his kind– 50 years of age– and felt the desire to find a mate. He sent out a psychic call for the one that would be his soul's mate, left home and followed the faint answering call that returned to him, like a dolphin's sonar. Guided only by his senses he traveled thousands of miles north, finally focusing in on this city. But he needed help arranging a proper meeting. He discerned my, shall we say, unique ki signature and sought me out as one who could help him.

"I was thrilled to learn of the existence of such a magnificent creature, not to mention flattered that he should seek my help, of all people's, and I determined to help him in any way I could. By mental touch he shared with me the vague images and general description of the one he sought. I had an idea of who he referred to, and politely asked a customer of mine who worked with Oujisama if he might discreetly mention my store while within hearing range of the man," D said, rather smug at his own cleverness.

"Vegeta, already feeling a pull he couldn't understand, now knew where to follow the pull to. When Oujisama found his way to my store and made his particular request, I knew he was the one. I introduced them, and the courtship began."

"Courtship?" Orcot imagined a 19th century couple riding in a horse and buggy and the man "coming to call" on the blushing lady.

"Whatever you're thinking, I can guarantee that's not it," the Count said dryly. "Traditional saiyajin customs are very unusual– in fact, different from anything I've seen. The courtship began when Vegeta agreed to take Kakarot home. This meant he approved of the suitor and gave permission to be courted. During the formal meeting and duration of the courtship, custom calls for the desired to cover his or her body completely, except for the head and hands. Revealing of the forbidden flesh signals to the courting saiyajin that courtship is over and the desired is ready to be bonded and mated, and the exposed flesh is bitten to seal the bond.

"During courtship the pursuer is not allowed to touch the desired in any overtly sexual manner, not allowed to voice his wants. The pursuer is sometimes given difficult tasks to perform to prove his love and loyalty, and mates are often taken on the full moon. Although Vegeta sent Kakarot after Yamcha for his own selfish ends, I believe a deeper part of him was instinctively acting out the rituals of the saiyajin. Vegeta knew what he truly wanted in his unconscious and let it guide his actions, though he believed the denials the rest of his mind kept exhorting.

"I think Kakarot assumed I had explained to Vegeta the rules of the game. Silly me!" D tittered.

"Aagh, he was in the dark the entire time? Count, you're terrible! If you didn't like this guy and wanted Kakarot to take him in the first place, why'd you even give him that third rule to follow? You could've just let the creature take him."

"How boring! I thought they should have some time to get acquainted. Though it did take longer than I expected. I knew Vegeta Oujisama was a rigid creature of habit, but I also knew that he was not the type of person who could follow another man's rules for long."

"Vegeta was on the verge of completely succumbing to his vices, but fortunately in the midst of it all instinct directed him, and Kakarot gave him that forceful push in the right direction that he needed."

"Urgh, so Vegeta Oujisama lost his free will and became this saychin's love slave? How awful."

"Don't be an imbecile. He is no such thing. In fact Vegeta is more free than he ever was in his life, more free than most of us could hope to be. Though they came from different worlds, they were kindred spirits. The kis of Vegeta and Kakarot matched perfectly, like two strings that when plucked produce the same notes that melt into one. They would have joined no matter what, despite cultural misunderstandings and Vegeta's conflicted state of mind. Kakarot shared his power with Vegeta, his spirit, his mind, and when Vegeta saw reality through the consciousness of the saiyajin, the petty concerns and worries of his bitter life melted away. He was shown the right path."

"So happily ever after, and all that? A man is dead!" Orcot snarled. "Oh wait, I forgot, you don't care about humans," he added sarcastically.

"The death was regrettable, I admit. But is it not the highest duty of an officer to sacrifice himself for others? He died quickly, honorably, while he was loved and in the prime of life. He will never grow old and ill, and his love with Buruma will never sour. She will remember him forever as the great, untainted love of her life. Not an entirely awful way to go."

"Rrrr... that's it! I'm arresting you!"

"On what charges?"

"Violation of the Washington Convention, and if that doesn't work we'll try slave trade!"

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. I'm familiar with the tenets of the Washington Convention. Which is a moot point at any rate since I sold Vegeta nothing but ordinary birds."

"You crazy liar, you just _said_– Where's that contract you made with Oujisama, I know you have one!"

D calmly went to his desk and pulled out a parchment. Orcot snatched it out of his hands and began reading, then blanched.

"What the hell...! This isn't a purchase agreement, it's a fee for... matchmaking services?!"

The count giggled in triumph. "Indeed. It's not illegal to set someone up, is it?"

"Goddammit!!"

"Come now, detective. I thought you should be proud of me. I have disposed of a tyrant by turning him into a new person, and assisted one of the rarest races on Earth. Vegeta Oujisama found the peace and contentment he yearned for all his life, but in the way he least expected– not by gaining control, but by releasing it."

"You're a crazy criminal, and one of these days I will take you down..."

"I have told you before, Leon, we are simply a store that sells love, hope, and dreams."

D rose and retrieved his sketchbook, taking it back to his desk in the corner. He turned the page to admire his drawing of a second, smaller saiyajin, one he'd seen only in his mind's eye from Kakarot's final mental sending, then tenderly closed the cover. As he turned to face Orcot the snakelike dragon embroidered upon his satin cheongsam seemed to shimmer amongst its background of stars. "Vegeta dreamed of the jungle...

"And some wishes do come true."

---

The End

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A/N I finished my first chaptered fic (also the first fanfiction I ever started)! Took me long enough. Glittering Stardust Martinis for everyone who read and reviewed, huzzah, thank you so much! (toast) This fic was stressful; I have to do some comedy now.

I know some of you are probably disappointed that there was no lemon at the end, and I debated whether or not to do one, but I really just wanted to concentrate on the transformation and their flight into the forest, and I thought a lemon would weigh it down. Besides, Vegeta has to get used to the shock of all of a sudden having this new body, the explosion of the greenhouse would have caused the servants to come see what was wrong, (the windows EX-ploded so most of the glass would have blown out, but I'm sure some still would have fallen inside and having sex around broken glass would NOT be wise), and Kakarot would want to "carry him over the threshold" into his domain before they consummate. The newlyweds don't do it on the altar. X)

I do have some ideas for a sequel where Kakarot teaches Vegeta about life in the jungle (and that will definitely have lemon), but I need a break from this fic world for a little while. I want to write some one-shots that I've had in mind.

This fic is my little tribute to Pet Shop of Horrors because it's the first anime I ever liked. When anime first started becoming popular here in the states in the '90s, I didn't like it at all (gasp!). I had it stuck in my head that European comics were the highest form of the genre. But I loved animation and comics and kept giving different animes a chance, and PSoH was the first one I thought, "gee, that was actually pretty cool." I got used to the manga style, and now manga are about the only comics I read. Never be afraid to change your mind! I'm so glad I changed mine.

So I tried to keep the story loosely along the lines of a Pet Shop story– the list of rules, Orcot and D discussing the case, the title starting with a D. Dégager means "to set free" in French. Vegeta was "set free" from his cold, control-hungry life, set free from his mental prisons, set free from the dreariness of modern civilization; his old self was stripped away and the purer self deep within allowed to flourish. I hope everything wrapped up and hung together properly at the end; it seemed so to me but then my head floats off into the clouds sometimes. "It is better to be feared than loved" is a quote from Machievelli, by the way. I did really hate to kill off Yamcha after I gave him and Buruma such a nice relationship, but I thought it was necessary and would just have to be the tragic part of the fic. What do you guys think?

Yamcha (barges in): Yes, this was a stressful fic, and that really, really hurt! Now can you please move on to some fics that either do not include me or don't involve me dying horribly?

Vegeta: What are you complaining about? She made me a human! And gave me a short complex! I do NOT have a short complex.

(Yamcha and Goku both look away, whistling.)

V: I don't! Assholes.

OE: That's why its AU, Veggie-san, relax.

Goku: Hey, I didn't have it easy either– I didn't even have a speaking role, and holding ssj4 that long is hard!

OE: You had a, er, "thinking" role. And you look so hot as ssj4, baby!

G: Hot is right. Phew! All that fur... (fans self with his shirt)

Y: Well at least these two wound up happy; I just wound up dead, and I wasn't doing anything wrong!

OE: You were a victim of circumstance. I'm sorry, baby, you did get a raw deal in this story, and I want to make it up to you. I've got a little present for you!

Y: ...Really?

OE: Yes, really. It's a fabulous prize!

Y: (Gasp) A new aircar?

OE: Even better! It's an all-night expenses-paid stay in the mysterious, mystical, magical, Sacred Tiki Love Hut!

Y: Oh, wow! But wait, that would mean–

(G and V give each other an evil look, then each grab a leg and start dragging him off.)

Y: Hey... hey! HEY WAIT A MINUTE! Waah! B-but I'm not even gay!

V (evil grin): You will be.

Buruma (following with a video camera): Now _this_ is a cast party.

---

The End


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